Afterimages
by Reliquary
Summary: An Imperial-centric story of politics, romance, and galactic strife. SW, SI, IA, and JK spoilers to follow. Departs from established game canon following the end of the class stories. Also posted on the official SWTOR forums.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _13 ATC_

Her boots were loud on the polished black floor, each step cracking the foreboding silence of the Citadel. Although she was a slight figure, standing only a few inches above five feet in height, she moved with a confidence befitting the one who held the title of the Emperor's Wrath.

She was Pureblood Sith, with skin the color of burnished copper and dark red hair pulled back severely into a tail behind her head. Her face, marked with the ridges characteristic of her species, had been called beautiful in the past. Now, however, only a few beings dared meet the golden eyes of one of the most powerful Sith Lords in the Empire.

Her name was A'tro. _Darth_ A'tro now, though most only knew her by her title of Wrath. She found that she rather preferred it that way. Reputation was everything for a Sith, and hers was made all the more fearsome by lack of a name.

And so she walked through the dark corridors of the Citadel, occasionally passing red-armored Imperial Guards, who bowed deeply as she passed. She had been on the front lines for almost six months, and it was pleasant to be back on Dromund Kaas, at the heart of the Empire's power. After months of fighting, she was coming home.

When she reached her destination, the entrance to an apartment located about halfway up the Citadel, she was not surprised to see a young human woman in plain black robes waiting outside the door.

A'tro greeted her apprentice with a nod and approached the apartment's keypad, entering in the code to unlock the door.

"Master," Jaesa Willsaam said with a graceful bow. "I've been waiting here, as you requested."

The door slid open with a soft hiss of motors. A'tro stepped inside, gesturing for Jaesa to follow.

The apartment was situated on one edge of the building, and one wall of the antechamber was solid glass, giving a spectacular view of Kaas City and the jungle beyond. It was only mid-afternoon, but the sky was obscured by thick clouds, draping the landscape in darkness. As A'tro watched, droplets of rain began to splash against the window.

"Did you deliver my request to the Ministry of War?" she asked abruptly.

"Yes, Master." A pause. "If I may," Jaesa said carefully, "I mean no disrespect, my lord, but…why me?"

A'tro turned away from the window to face her. "A Sith Lord of my rank does not waste time on errands. You are my apprentice, and as such, you represent my interests in matters that are too trivial for me to address personally."

Jaesa's brows drew together slightly. "I understand, Master."

"If these assignments bore you, I suggest you bear in mind that we all serve the Empire in our own way."

"I thought I served you, my lord."

"Do not get impertinent with me, apprentice. The Empire is the Emperor, and I am his Wrath. You will find it is all very much the same thing."

"I apologize, Master," Jaesa murmured.

 _At least the Jedi taught her to be respectful_ , A'tro thought sourly. _Sith apprentices tend to need the arrogance beaten out of them_. "You'll learn soon enough. It is my intention to remain in the capital for some time. As long as we are here, you must never forget your place in the order of things."

"I'm not sure I understand what that place is," Jaesa admitted. "The Sith are…more complicated than I expected."

"As my apprentice, you are on equal footing with most Sith who bear the title of Lord. Sometimes it will be necessary to remind them of that fact. Be bold, but not overconfident. Understand your own limitations."

"I think I can do that."

"Good." A'tro turned away and started walking towards the door leading to the rest of the apartment. "You may go."

"Where am I supposed to stay?"

"Figure it out." _I'll teach her to be self-sufficient if it kills her._

"But I—yes, Master." A strong current of curiosity surfaced in her Force presence, and was quickly suppressed.

A'tro paused and turned around. "Was there something you wanted?"

Jaesa's gaze darted away from her and she bit her lip, something A'tro had come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. "I just wondered why—" She shook her head. "It's none of my business, Master. Forget I said anything."

A subtle chill ran down A'tro's spine and settled in the pit of her stomach, where it quickly turned to a hot ember of anger. "Tell me."

Jaesa visibly steeled herself. "Why did you have Captain Quinn reassigned? I thought the two of you were—worked well together."

"I have my reasons," A'tro said flatly. "And you were right to say that it is no business of yours. That will be all."

"Yes, Master." Jaesa swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I brought it up." She bowed quickly and fled.

A'tro took a deep breath and laced her fingers together, cracking her knuckles one at a time. Outside, there was a distant peal of thunder.

Hopefully, Jaesa's acute perception had failed to detect A'tro's doubts on the matter. The old adage of _keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ kept coming to mind. Whether Quinn was a friend or an enemy, however, was the question that continued to press irksomely at the back of her mind. Or perhaps that was too complicated a way of looking at it, and he was simply a liability. And liabilities had to be removed, no matter the cost.


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _13 ATC_

"I'm ever so pleased that you agreed to meet with me, Wrath," Darth Nox said cheerfully.

The newest member of the Dark Council was a fair-skinned human woman with long, midnight black hair and pale gray eyes. Her face, while not conventionally beautiful, was nonetheless quite attractive, with a tapered jaw, prominent cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose. She had chosen to forego traditional Sith robes in favor of a high-collared white dress with embroidered gold accents.

A'tro had been present during Nox's climactic duel with Darth Thanaton in the Council chamber. Her conduct then made A'tro inclined to like her, but she definitely didn't trust her. Nox was dangerous.

That danger, however, was why A'tro had agreed to meet with her in the first place. "The pleasure is mine," she said smoothly. "I was eager to once again offer my congratulations on your victory over Thanaton."

The corners of Nox's scarlet mouth turned upwards. "Thank you."

They were meeting in one of the public seating areas of the Citadel, an array of chairs and couches arranged in front of a large window giving a grand view of the city. Such places were good locations for Sith to hold meetings, as one could carry on a private conversation if one was quiet, but it was public enough that only the boldest would try for a violent power grab.

Nox moved over to a chair by the window, floating across the floor like a ghost in her white dress. A'tro took a seat across from her, folding her hands in her lap, but taking care not to intertwine her fingers too tightly in case her lightsabers were needed. This was a public space, but this was also Darth Nox.

"I must admit," Nox said, "I'm curious as to what you intend to do with your new position."

A'tro studied the metal plate on the back of her right gauntlet for a long moment, contemplating her answer. "I defeated Darth Baras in single combat," she said finally. "By rights, his seat on the Dark Council belongs to me."

"Ambitious," Nox said admiringly. "To be the Emperor's Wrath and a member of the Dark Council... I doubt the others will like it."

"I'm not giving them a choice."

Nox chuckled. "I like you, Wrath."

"I'm flattered. Might I ask what you intend to do with your own position, Nox?"

"Oh...this and that." Her enigmatic smile returned in full force. "The Sphere of Ancient Knowledge will keep me satisfied for the time being."

"I must admit, I look forward to seeing where you go."

Nox's smile widened. "You may be the only one. I get the sense that certain members of our illustrious Council are not overly fond of me."

"Such things are to be expected."

"Still, it's dreadfully inconvenient when one is trying to get things done. Especially inconvenient for the assassins, since they're all dead now, but…I'm sure you understand."

"As it happens, I haven't had many difficulties in that area," A'tro admitted.

Nox raised a thin black arch of an eyebrow. "You haven't? No, of course you haven't. You're the Emperor's _Wrath_ ; trying to assassinate you would be tantamount to a declaration against the Emperor himself. Sheer foolhardiness."

"Indeed."

"No wonder you've been so productive of late. You do impressive work, Wrath. Our colleagues had best be on their guard. I assume now that you've returned to proper civilization, you will be attending our meetings?"

"Yes. It's time I became involved."

"Good, good. I daresay you won't have any difficulty finding somewhere to sit. There have been so many chairs open of late. It's a little troubling."

"The loss of Council members is a blow, to be sure, but they will be replaced soon enough."

Nox pursed her lips and frowned. "Will they, though? I can't help but notice that the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence has remained leaderless for some time."

"Imperial Intelligence is dissolved, now. I imagine that complicates things."

Nox's frown deepened. "I am well aware. Whose foolhardy idea was that, anyway?"

A'tro shrugged.

Nox shook her head. "It doesn't matter now. The point is, there is an empty seat and no one has taken it."

"I'm not sure that the rest of the Council considers it empty. Darth Jadus is not dead, as far as we know."

"'As far as we know is' decidedly limited. No one has seen or heard from Jadus in a year, now."

"Considering what happened the last time he faked his demise, I understand the Council being reluctant to remove him from the picture."

"Hmm." Nox frowned at the window for several moments. Then the expression wiped itself clear from her face, replaced by her usual half-smile. "You know, you weren't at all what I was expecting."

A'tro stared at her blankly for a moment. "I wasn't?"

"Not at all. When I heard that there was a new Emperor's Wrath, and that they would likely be present when I faced Thanaton, I imagined some colossus of muscle looming over the proceedings."

A'tro snorted. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all. No one bothered telling me you were a woman, either. Which, I have to say, is quite refreshing. The Empire could use a few more Sith ladies in visible positions of power."

"On that, we can agree."

"Not that I think our male colleagues are incompetent. Except for Ravage. Still, I find myself the recipient of a great deal of _attention_."

A'tro looked from Nox's face to her tight-fitting dress and back again several times. "I can't imagine why."

"Six months in power and they're already clambering for my favor in droves." Nox sighed dramatically. "Ah, the benefits of power. But what about you, my dear? A Pureblood such as yourself is at the top of the aesthetic food chain to most Sith."

"I have no interest in such things."

"No? More for me, then." Nox settled back in her chair, her half-smile arranging itself into a full, confident smirk. "You can go a great distance on looks alone. I learned that a long time ago."

"My strength can carry me all the distance I need to go."

"Funny you should say that," Nox said lightly. "Because unless I'm getting the Sith Code completely wrong, we gain our strength through passion."

A'tro snorted quietly. She had witnessed Nox's battle with Darth Thanaton, and the woman was as cold and calculating a fighter as she had ever seen. "I think the Code is referring to a different kind of passion."

"Is it, though? An awful lot of Jedi can be convinced to switch sides with the promise of a little…fraternization."

"I'll give you that one," A'tro said, thinking of some of the first questions Jaesa had asked her. "But I do not believe that 'fraternization,' as you put it, is as necessary as you make it sound. To indulge one's appetites too far is weakness, plain and simple."

"You prefer your hedonism in controlled doses, then?"

"I prefer not to waste my time."

"Ah, one of those types." Nox nodded sagely. "Perhaps I've been reading this all wrong. A military man—or woman—would be much more to your fancy than a Sith." Her smile widened. "I do love our troops. So disciplined. So eager to please."

Several extremely vivid memories flashed through A'tro's mind. "I am _finished_ with this line of conversation."

"Of course, of course. Now that we've established your lack of interest, I can conquer as I see fit. Excellent."

A'tro blinked. "You…you are strange, Nox."

"I know. But I would be very boring otherwise."


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _13 ATC_

A'tro had set up her office with her desk at a slight diagonal away from the door. This meant that when she sat behind it and faced straight ahead, she was not looking directly at whoever might be in the room. It was a strategic choice, intended to force visitors to feel that they had to work to earn her full attention.

She was starting to realize that the layout also gave her an excuse to avoid looking at the one person she really didn't want to see.

Captain Malavai Quinn stood at attention in the center of the room. He had been standing there, straight and rigid as a post, for several minutes, and A'tro had no intention of letting him relax. Let him be as uncomfortable in her presence as she was in his.

She quested outward with the Force, trying to get a sense of his emotions, and found nothing. She had never been very good at reading people.

She let the moments drag on, one after another, until she had finished the latest report from Corellia. At last, she closed the report, brought up a new document, and let her gaze turn ever so slightly towards the center of the room.

"Captain Quinn," she said in the tone of one discussing the weather. "I believe that your talents would be best put to use within the Imperial military directly. To that end, you have been reassigned to the command of Moff Aurelius Drayle, effective immediately."

A'tro forced herself to turn her head and look at him straight on. His face bore the same deliberately blank expression it always had.

"I trust you understand," A'tro said, feeling the weight of the words as they emerged into the air to hang for a moment, then fall like mountains.

"Yes, my lord," Quinn replied evenly.

A'tro wondered if this was all an act, or if he really didn't care. She could never tell with him anymore. "That will be all, Captain. Dismissed."

He bowed to her—a gratifying sight, she had to admit—and left.

The moment the doors closed behind him, A'tro slumped over in her chair with a heavy sigh. That had been entirely too difficult. Clearly, putting Quinn as far away from her as possible was the best option.

Reaching up behind her head, she removed the tie from her hair, then ran a hand through the rust-colored locks. It was done. Quinn was gone, the viper in her bed reduced to just another cog in the Imperial war machine.

 _I'll miss him_. She suppressed the thought as soon as it surfaced, but it was there nonetheless.

The next day, A'tro received a call from Servant One.

"Wrath," he said immediately. "You have returned to Dromund Kaas."

"Our most vital campaigns are stable," A'tro replied, unconsciously putting her hands behind her back in an Imperial parade rest. "I felt it best to return to the capital and—"

Servant One cut her off. "You misunderstand. Explanations for your actions are not required."

A'tro nodded slowly, keeping her face impassive.

"The Emperor is pleased with his Wrath," Servant One continued. "You have done well."

"It has been my honor to serve our Emperor."

"Yes," Servant One said blandly. "Your dedication will be rewarded. I trust I need not explain to you the power of the Emperor's chosen guardsmen?"

"The Imperial Guards live up to their reputation," A'tro said. She realized what she was doing with her hands and jerked them down to her sides.

"Two of the Guard's most capable members have been assigned to your service. You will find them awaiting your command outside your chambers."

A'tro frowned. "I am grateful, but I don't believe I require bodyguards."

"They will do more than protect you. They are a symbol of the Emperor's favor. With them at your side, all will know that you are truly his Wrath."

"I believe I understand," A'tro said slowly. The loyalty of the Imperial Guard could not be coerced. They answered only to the Emperor himself, and as such, only he could have commanded them to obey her. As symbols went, it was certainly a powerful one.

"Good. The Emperor is satisfied with you for now, but do not become complacent. You will not be permitted to repeat the mistakes of your predecessor."

An icy claw of fear raked its way down her spine. "I am the Emperor's loyal and humble servant."

"Of course. Servant One out." The transmission ended.

A'tro took several deep breaths. The cold claw had lodged itself in her gut. The Emperor's Hand had never explained how or why the position of Wrath had become vacant. Every Sith with any political savvy had known who the Emperor's Wrath was, even if they dared not speak of him.

The Wrath was the Emperor's right hand, and above the ordinary squabbling of lesser Sith. The old Wrath likely had not been eliminated by rivals. If he had fallen in battle, the Republic surely would have claimed the credit for such an impressive victory. That left two possibilities: either he had failed the Emperor and been cast aside, or…

Her resources were few, given that she was new to the Dark Council and Imperial Intelligence was still effectively disbanded, but she had made subtle inquiries, with disturbing results. Shortly before the Emperor's Hand had first contacted her, task forces of the Imperial Guard had been dispatched all across Imperial space and beyond, sweeping through system after system.

As if they were hunting someone.

It was a ludicrous notion, but A'tro found it haunted her nonetheless. Could the former Wrath have turned traitor? Surely it was impossible that a Sith of such high rank, so trusted by the Emperor, would ever betray that trust. Lesser Sith might falter in their convictions; she knew that far too well. But not an Emperor's Wrath.

On some odd level, she found that she was actually grateful to the old Wrath, whatever his fate. Had the Emperor's Hand not intervened, she would have likely perished in Baras' trap on Quesh. But the Emperor had needed someone, and out of all the Sith in the Empire, he had chosen her.

She had wondered why, at first, but there was no point to that now, just as there was no point in speculating over the fate of her predecessor. It was time to meet these Imperial Guards who had been assigned to her.

She moved away from the holoterminal and checked the monitor that displayed the hallway outside her apartment. Sure enough, two figures in the distinctive red armor of the Emperor's elite soldiers stood by her door. One was a head taller than the other, while the shorter of the pair had a more slender and curved figure, suggesting at a woman under the all-concealing red.

 _Interesting_ , A'tro thought. She had seen a fair number of the Imperial Guard on Corellia, but only a few of them were women. She went to the door and opened it.

The two guards immediately turned to face her, bowing in unison.

"Lord Wrath," the shorter one said in a deep, but definitely female voice. "We have been instructed to present ourselves to you for induction into your service."

"Yes, I've been informed," A'tro said. "Come with me."

She turned and walked further into her antechamber, trusting that they would follow. The sound of footsteps and the door closing confirmed her instinct.

"Now, then," she continued, turning back to face them. "Each of you, show me your face and tell me your name and rank. I'd like to know who I'll be dealing with."

They hesitated for a moment, then removed their red helmets.

The tall guard was a man who looked to be somewhere in his mid-forties, with a hard, angular face and steely gray eyes. His hair was shaved close to his head, and he had a spectacular set of scars that slashed across his face and up over his scalp, probably from the claws of some wild animal. "Vorin Janeth, my lord," he said. His voice was gravelly, as if he didn't use it much.

"I'm Arden Zariel," his female compatriot said. Of a similar age to Janeth, she had a cybernetic implant that mostly covered a patch of scar tissue on the right side of her pale face. Her gray-streaked black hair was cut short, and she had dark blue eyes that unsettlingly reminded A'tro of Quinn. "As we now serve you exclusively, we are outside the normal military chain of command. Only you and the Emperor himself have the authority to direct us, my lord."

 _So I keep hearing._ "Very well. I look forward to working with you both. While I am on Dromund Kaas, you will probably not see combat. In the field, however, I trust you are capable of battling any enemies I might face?"

Zariel inclined her head. "Rest assured, Lord Wrath, Janeth and I have slain many Jedi." She hesitated for a moment. "And many Sith."

There it was—both threat and reminder. The guardsmen were there to do more than protect her. They were there to watch her.

 _And if I fail, or show any signs of disloyalty, I'm sure they have orders to kill me_ , A'tro thought grimly. _This "gift" may be more trouble than it's worth._ "Excellent," she said smoothly, careful to betray no trace of her misgivings. "I will call on you tomorrow to accompany me on some business here in the capital. Until then, you are dismissed."

Zariel and Janeth bowed, put their helmets on, and left the room, all in perfect unison that must have taken practice.

When they were gone, A'tro let her brow furrow into a worried frown. She was confident in her ability to carry out her duties, but the presence of the two guardsmen complicated things. They would probably report her every move to the Emperor's Hand. It was just as well that she had settled matters with her personal life. She had to be conscious of the fact that her every move was now a reflection on the Emperor himself.

Her life was over. The time of the Emperor's Wrath had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

 _Sith Academy, Korriban_

 _13 ATC_

It was A'tro's first time back in the Sith Academy since she had killed Baras. She found herself the recipient of more than a few looks as she made her way through the corridors with two Imperial Guards in tow. Some, from older Sith and overseers, were speculative. The acolytes' reactions were largely fearful, while a few who likely had more ambition than sense eyed her with open envy. Those would not last. All bowed to her respectfully as she passed, however.

While an assembly of the entire Dark Council was rare, there were always a few of its members who regularly gathered on Korriban to discuss current affairs and play politics. That business would start in a few hours; until then, A'tro had a different appointment to keep.

She made her way through the mazelike halls with Janeth and Zariel trailing dutifully behind her. As they passed into one of the older parts of the Academy structure, the corridors narrowed considerably. The Guardsmen continued to walk shoulder to shoulder, forcing the few acolytes they encountered to stand against the nearest wall or be run down.

While not at all subtle, they added an entirely new element of intimidation to her presence. This could definitely be used to her advantage when dealing with the military or lesser Sith. She could not imagine why she would ever need to talk to any civilians, but the Guardsmen would probably be useful then, too.

Having reached her destination, an unmarked door deep in the lowest levels of the Academy, she turned to face her escort.

"You will wait outside until my business is concluded," she ordered.

"Yes, my lord," said Zariel, who seemed to speak for the two of them. Both bowed and moved to stand on either side of the door.

A'tro nodded once and moved up to the door. She ignored the keypad—a Dark Lord of the Sith went where she pleased, and had no need to ask for permission to enter. Instead, she grasped the door with the Force, undid the locking mechanism, and forced it open. As she stepped inside, she released her mental hold, and the door slid shut with a whirr of strained servomotors.

The room was long and narrow, barely wide enough to accommodate the standard-issue desk that sat about two meters back from where A'tro stood. A dark red carpet covered the floor, and the walls were adorned with several portions of stone friezes that, judging by the red coloration of the stone, had been chiseled directly off Korriban's tombs.

Behind the desk sat a Sith Pureblood woman dressed in traditional red and black robes. While A'tro knew she was in her late forties, there was little sign of ageing on her copper skin, which was just a few shades redder than A'tro's own. They had the same rust-colored hair, but there was only a trace resemblance between their faces, which was good. A'tro had no desire to be reminded of her relationship to this woman.

"Overseer," she said curtly. "I believe we have something to discuss."

Ravinia Dhakar looked up from the computer built into her desk. She smiled, an expression that did not reach her orange eyes. "I wondered when you would come by. It's been almost four years."

A'tro scowled. "You will address me with respect."

Ravinia inclined her head. "I apologize if I presumed…Lord Wrath. Even Lords of the Sith tend to relax the formalities with family."

A'tro's scowl deepened; the conversation was going exactly where she had known it would, and the fact that she had seen it coming was only making her more annoyed. "You may be my mother's sister, but that does not make us family. My title will be good enough for you, Overseer."

Ravinia's expression turned somber, though her eyes remained hungry. "Are you aware that your mother is dead, my lord?"

"Good riddance," A'tro snapped, her left wrist twinging softly in remembered pain. "I'm not here to chat about the past."

The ridges on Ravinia's brow lifted away from her eyes. "With, of course, all due respect, I was under the impression that you'd come here to discuss the debt you owe me."

"I did. So tell me, what exactly is it that you think you're going to get from me in return?"

Ravinia steepled her fingers together in front of her. "I have given the matter some thought."

"I'm sure you have," A'tro muttered.

"While I certainly enjoyed reaping the rewards of exposing a traitor to the Empire, concealing her apprentice's fate was no easy matter." Ravinia manipulated the controls of her computer. "I had to bribe the proper officials to have K'hera Dhakar declared dead, arrange for some semblance of documentation under your new name—it suits you, my lord—which required yet more bribes, arrange transportation… I have the expenses tallied here."

"If all you wanted from me were credits, we would have settled this matter years ago."

"Indeed." Ravinia made another entry on the computer. "I could have smuggled you off Dromund Kaas and left it at that, but I did not. I convinced Tremel to bring you here so that you had an opportunity to start your life over again and rise high among the Sith under a master who was _not_ a Jedi spy, because I knew that you would eventually find yourself in a position to make it worth my while."

"Let me guess," A'tro said darkly. "You want power."

"Don't we all?" Ravinia smiled. "I've always fancied the sound of 'Lord Ravinia.' Perhaps some property, as well? Your father still lives in the old Dhakar estate, but surely a scholar doesn't need all that space—"

"No."

"'No'?" Ravinia echoed, her eyes widening. "You cannot refuse me, not after everything I've done for you!"

"Your assistance was useful, true. But I have no intention of giving you anything."

Ravinia smiled again, showing pointed teeth. "You are free to do as you like…my lord. It would be a shame, however, if the Dark Council were to learn that Darth Evendre's apprentice is still alive, under a new name, the disciple of a traitor in their very midst…"

"Do not presume to think that you can simply blackmail _me_ ," A'tro said coldly. "Any accusation you make will be your word against mine, and my word carries the authority of the Emperor himself."

"Not if I have proof—"

A'tro reached out with one hand, the dark side mimicking her gesture and seizing Ravinia by the throat. Her eyes went very wide, and her hands flew vainly to her neck. A'tro could feel her trying in vain to use the Force to dislodge her grip.

"It seems you misunderstand," A'tro told her. "Were I in any other position, I would likely be obligated to give you something in exchange for your silence. But I am the Emperor's Wrath, and to speak against me is treason."

She closed her hand into a fist and drew it towards her, lifting Ravinia out of her chair and throwing her to the ground in a heap at her feet.

"You will die now," A'tro said, and drew one lightsaber with her left hand.

Ravinia pushed herself up just enough to stare at A'tro. The hunger in her orange eyes had given way to fear. "Even a Dark Lord cannot simply execute an overseer of the Korriban Academy!"

"I killed your friend Tremel when I was only an acolyte. You'll be replaced easily enough."

Ravinia was silent for a long moment. "If…if I swear to keep your true past a secret," she said finally, each word sounding as if it were being wrenched from her, "Will you…let me live?"

"Your word means less than nothing to me." A'tro lifted her blade, ready to strike.

"Wait!" Ravinia choked out. A'tro could almost hear her swallowing her pride. "I—I'll serve you. I'll do anything you say."

"You're a liability," A'tro said softly, almost to herself. "And liabilities have to be removed."

The blade came down.

As A'tro strode out of the room and into the hallway, Zariel and Janeth fell into step behind her.

"In a few minutes, contact Academy security," A'tro said. "Inform them that Overseer Ravinia has suffered an unfortunate accident."

"Yes, Lord Wrath," Zariel said in a tone that indicated she understood all too well.

A'tro adjusted her gloves and continued on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

 _Sith Academy, Korriban_

 _13 ATC_

A'tro had just made it up the stairs to the second level of the Academy when she paused, seeing someone unexpectedly familiar standing just a few feet away.

It was a male Sith Pureblood dressed in plain, practical armor that was designed for mobility rather than defense. He had the crimson skin that was most common to their species compared to A'tro's copper. His head was completely hairless, with a heavy set of ridges crowning his brow and his chin extending into two distinct spiky protrusions. Ornate golden jewelry decorated his ears and nose.

A'tro hadn't seen that face in years, but she knew who he was. He had to be. She started walking towards him, noticing after a moment that he was conversing with a slight figure concealed by a hooded black robe. She hesitated at that, unsure if she was willing to interrupt another Sith's business, but by then she was close enough that he looked up and saw her.

His bright red eyes went wide, and he looked from her to the Imperial Guards behind her and back again. A'tro could almost see him making several realizations at once as he bowed deeply before her, subtly motioning for his hooded companion to do the same.

"Lord Wrath," he said. "Forgive me for not acknowledging your presence sooner."

A'tro flicked one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Never mind that. Savadar Ekari, isn't it?"

"Yes, my lord. I'm honored that you know me."

A'tro found herself hesitating, uncertain of how to handle the situation. She couldn't acknowledge him officially, not with her old identity, but… "You were an associate of K'hera Dhakar."

Savadar nodded. "I was saddened to hear of her death." There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, some emotion that A'tro couldn't quite place.

"As it happens," A'tro said, trying not to sound overly awkward but feeling it nonetheless, "I was also familiar with Dhakar prior to her unfortunate disappearance. Perhaps we could meet sometime in a more private location and discuss our old friend?"

Savadar's brow furrowed slightly. "It would be my pleasure, my lord."

"Excellent. I'll be in touch." A'tro looked over at the hooded figure who was standing a few steps behind him. "Who is this?"

Savadar gave a small start. "Forgive my rudeness for not making proper introductions." He motioned the hooded figure forward. "Lord Wrath, this is my apprentice, Kettrien Byrd."

Kettrien bowed very low.

"She's a bit quiet," Savadar continued, "but she is very strong in the Force. I was just showing her around Korriban."

"I won't keep you," A'tro said. "I have business of my own to attend to. I will contact you later, however."

"Of course, Wrath," Savadar said pleasantly. "I look forward to it." He set off past A'tro and down the stairs, giving Janeth and Zariel a furtive look. Kettrien trailed after him.

A'tro watched him go, thinking hard. She should have expected that she would encounter someone from her old life sooner or later. She should have expected Savadar in particular, given his family's prominence in the Imperial economic scene.

They had been close, once. _Very_ close, though she had abandoned that when Darth Evendre had taken her as an apprentice. That note in his voice when he said he'd ben saddened by news of her death, though… Sincerity, that was what it was.

Perhaps this was what she needed to finally put Quinn out of her mind for good.

She was still thinking it over as she took the elevator to the upper level of the Academy and made her way to the Dark Council chamber. It was not yet time for the meeting to officially start, but three of the Council's members were already there in person.

"Hello, Wrath," Darth Vowrawn greeted her as she walked in. "It's a pleasure to see you, as always. We were just waiting for Marr to connect."

A'tro nodded in acknowledgment as she walked past him and took a seat in the chair that had belonged to Darth Baras.

Directly across the room, Darth Nox winked at her as she continued the diatribe she had been in the middle of when A'tro arrived. "And fifthly, you've left yourself no room to maneuver. The Republic may be spread thin on the near edge of the system, but it would be simplicity itself for them to close in and cut you off." She made a snipping gesture with one black-gloved hand. "In conclusion, your strategy is completely flawed, and when we lose that sector, don't say I didn't warn you."

Darth Ravage, seated to A'tro's left, let out a sharp sigh of annoyance. "There is nothing wrong with my strategy. _You_ are being too cautious. Creeping around like a Baldavian pocket hare will not win a war."

"Neither will rashly overextending our forces and acting surprised when it doesn't work," Nox countered.

"Aggressive tactics are the only way to deal with the Republic. Given the chance, they _will_ dig in, and it _will_ take years to extricate them."

"And while they hide in their bunkers, we can plunder the system as we please." Nox smiled sweetly. "Contrary to popular Sith doctrine, a little patience can go a long way."

"Clearly, you have never fought in a prolonged military engagement. Your advice is neither wanted nor needed."

"Touchy, touchy," Nox sighed. "Is a little civil discourse too much to ask for?"

"I will be _civil_ ," Ravage said through gritted teeth, "when you stop trying to dictate how to fight a war in which you have yet to participate."

"Funny, I don't see you on the front lines."

A'tro looked over at Vowrawn. "Do they always do this?"

Vowrawn nodded. "Entertaining, isn't it?"

"—more to commanding my sphere than strutting about with soldiers," Ravage said, continuing to glare at Nox.

"I think you're just afraid that Marr will make you look bad," Nox said archly. "Which is, of course, entirely understandable, since he's been out there crushing the Republic since the war started, while you continue to lounge around Kaas City doing…what is it that you _do_ , exactly?"

"I give instruction to the fleets under my command," Ravage retorted. "I would suggest that you demonstrate your woefully inept notions of military strategy with your own forces, but of course, you don't have any. Such a shame."

Nox pursed her lips. "I do find it quite interesting that even with those fleets, you seem to have accomplished very little. Perhaps we ought to rename the Sphere of Expansion and Diplomacy to Posturing and Empty Threats."

"Strong words from a woman who leads a glorified knitting circle of trivia gatherers."

Nox tittered behind one hand. "Now, now, Ravage, that's not very diplomatic of you, is it? I can't imagine why anyone would put _you_ in charge of that sphere."

Ravage leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I earned my seat on the Council. I didn't kill one raving lunatic and expect everything to be handed to me on an aurodium platter."

"You seem awfully bent out of shape about my promotion for someone who has said on multiple occasions that the Sith have too many rules."

"How many times will you take that out of context? The Sith Order needs laws and structure in order to function. It is the traditionalists' insistence on dressing up killing with pretty rituals and pretending that somehow makes it civilized that I take issue with."

"So you want us to be both structured and barbaric? That makes no sense."

"That is _not_ what I am saying." Ravage sighed in obvious irritation. "The Kaggath, and all the other rituals like it, promote the idea that murder is only socially acceptable when you give it a fancy name and pretend that you're following some code of honor. It doesn't _matter_ what you call it, it doesn't _matter_ how much you preen and tell yourself and all your friends what a heroic little Sith you are. At the end of the day, either your enemy is dead, or you are. Surrounding it in pretense is a waste of time."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "That's a nice speech. Did you practice?"

"He's been having this argument with someone at least once a month for the past ten years," Vowrawn put in.

"Yes, I have," Ravage snapped. "Because this Council has continued to select members who so desperately cling to the way things were thirty years ago that they have lost touch with reality."

"How convenient, then, that our illustrious colleagues keep getting themselves killed," Nox murmured.

Before anyone could reply, the holoprojector built into the base of the chair to Nox's right flickered and came to life, blue light resolving itself into the image of Darth Marr.

"I have little time to spare," Marr said. His tone, as always, seemed to suggest that he took every unnecessary word as a personal affront. "Our forces are holding steady in this sector, and the next offensive should push the Republic into a retreat." His masked visage turned slightly. "I see you have finally joined us, Wrath. Good."

"Yes," A'tro said. "I wanted to discuss the Sphere of Military Offense."

"With the death of Darth Baras, that sphere is currently leaderless," Marr said. "I assume you are bringing this up because you wish to assume that role yourself."

 _Definitely not one to mince words_ , A'tro thought. "That is correct."

Marr nodded once. "You removed the threat that Baras posed to the stability of the Empire. You have the right to succeed him. I will not object."

"It is…an unprecedented situation, to be sure," Vowrawn said. "But we must adapt to the changing times, or find ourselves in over our heads. I, for one, welcome you to our ranks, Wrath."

"As do I," Ravage added, inclining his head in A'tro's direction. "It seems only fitting."

Nox gave him a withering look. "You can't be serious."

"She's already a Darth, and the Emperor's Wrath." Ravage raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to be the only one to object?"

"Certainly not," Nox said coolly. "I believe the Council would do well to have you as one of its number, Wrath."

"It is settled then," Marr said.

A'tro looked around the mostly empty room. "What about the others?"

"This isn't a democracy," Ravage pointed out. He turned towards A'tro and smiled. "If anyone objects…kill them."

Nox rolled her eyes. "Don't flirt with her. It's disrespectful."

"Enough, both of you," Marr said before Ravage could respond. "The war will not wait while you bicker."

A'tro folded her hands in her lap and allowed herself a small, subtle smile of victory. This was it. She had risen as high as it was possible for a Sith to go. She had _won._

Marr was right, though. The war would not wait.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _13 ATC_

The Emperor's Wrath's apartment was located on a stretch of Citadel hallway that had, for whatever reason, a large gap between lights, leaving the door sitting in a pool of shadow. Even the bright red armor of the two Imperial Guards who stood on either side of it was reduced to a faded bloodstain in the dimness.

"What's she doing?" Zariel asked abruptly, speaking softly enough that only her counterpart standing less than a meter away could hear.

"It's not our business," Janeth answered automatically. After a moment, he added, "Although I think it's pretty obvious."

"It's not right," Zariel muttered. "She is the Emperor's Wrath. She shouldn't be wasting time carrying on like this."

"They could just be talking in there," Janeth said dubiously. "For half the night."

"It isn't right!" Zariel said, then froze at attention as her voice carried a bit farther than she had intended.

"Relax," Janeth told her. "No one's around. And like I said, it's not any of our business what the Wrath does. Or who." He chuckled at his own joke.

"You disgust me sometimes."

They had been having the entire conversation without looking at each other, maintaining their positions parallel to the wall on either side of the door. After Zariel's comment, however, Janeth turned to face her.

"What's really bothering you, Arden?" he asked. "This isn't just about the Wrath being a little frivolous with her time. I can tell."

Zariel continued staring stiffly out at the hallway in front of them. "Were you not listening when the Wrath encountered that man on Korriban?"

"No, I wasn't. Our assignment is to protect the Wrath, not spy on her."

"Your ability to be willingly oblivious never ceases to amaze me. The Wrath mentioned K'hera Dhakar."

"Should I know who that is?"

Zariel finally whirled around to face him, the eye slit of her helmet revealing just enough of a stormy blue glare. "I'm starting to think all the beatings you took in training ruined your memory."

Janeth shrugged languidly. "What can I say? I had authority issues."

"This is what happens when we take uneducated vagrants from Ziost and try to make them soldiers," Zariel hissed.

"I was a bloody good soldier. Still am," Janeth protested without any real heat in his voice. "Maybe you're just pent up. I can cover for you if you need to go find someone to beat into the ground. Or we could go together; I don't think the Wrath will need us for a while."

"We're on _duty_ , Vorin," Zariel said, clearly scandalized. "And we need to talk about K'hera Dhakar."

"Right, you were going to tell me who that is. And why I should care."

"K'hera Dhakar was Darth Evendre's apprentice. You do remember Darth Evendre, I hope?"

"Small-time Darth; big-time traitor. A 'fallen' Jedi who turned out to be faking it." Janeth nodded slowly. "That was a fun assignment. I thought her apprentice died?"

"That was what we were told. That was what all the records show. But I'm starting to think that Dhakar is actually still alive, and is, well, the Wrath."

"That's crazy."

"Look at the images on record. They're practically identical."

"Let me get this straight," Janeth said slowly. "You're telling me that you think the _Emperor's Wrath_ is the former apprentice of a Jedi spy. Which means—what, exactly? Don't tell me you think the Wrath could be a traitor."

"It's not outside the realm of possibility."

"Arden, listen to yourself. If the Wrath's loyalties were anything other than what they seem to be, she would have to be fooling us, the Emperor's Hand, and the Emperor himself. And that's just absurd."

"That's—that's not precisely what I meant," Zariel muttered, deflating slightly.

"So what did you mean? Hopefully something that won't get us executed for suspecting the Emperor's favorite Sith of treason."

"I just meant that we should watch her."

"We already do."

"You know what I mean."

"She was Baras' apprentice, too," Janeth pointed out. "And he was certainly a traitor to the Empire."

"Baras fooled no one," Zariel said disparagingly.

"The Dark Council—"

"Turned a blind eye because it suited them. The Emperor ought to purge the whole lot of them."

Janeth sighed heavily. "Arden, you can't say those things."

"I know you're thinking them, too."

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"You're right. It doesn't."

There was a long moment of silence.

Zariel looked at the door. "Do you think they're really—"

"Absolutely," Janeth murmured. "Aren't you glad this place is soundproofed?"

" _Disgusting_."

"To be fair to Ekari, the Wrath is very beautiful."

"Vorin," Zariel said dangerously.

"I can appreciate her aesthetically, can't I?"

"I don't trust you around Sith women. Not after what happened."

Janeth stood very still. "We agreed not to talk about that."

"This is why we shouldn't be allowed to have relationships."

"Yes, you're _plenty_ evidence for that argument."

Zariel turned and put her back against the wall again. "I know."

"Wait a minute," Janeth said, still facing her. "That's what's really bothering you, isn't it? The Wrath is in there getting cozy with someone, and you're upset because you think she should be a celibate bride of the Emperor or some bullshit."

"I—well—I—" Zariel stuttered. "Well, yes."

"Don't be ridiculous," Janeth said scornfully. "She may be the Wrath, but she's still a Sith like any other. Passion is part of their bloody code!"

"If she were like any other Sith, the Emperor would not have chosen her."

"I think you're reading too much into this. The Emperor chose her, sure, but only to kill things for him and remind the Dark Council to be good little boys and girls. _We_ are the true devoted ones."

"I suppose you could be right," Zariel said reluctantly. "It still bothers me."

"Oh, relax. It's just one night. Tomorrow we'll be following her around while she puts the fear of the Emperor into people, just like normal."

"None of this was what I was expecting when we were given this assignment," Zariel admitted.

"I try not to expect anything. It makes following orders easier. Besides, we had no way of knowing what it would be like. The old Wrath—"

"Shut up!" Zariel said sharply. "And to think, you tell _me_ not to say things!"

"It just slipped out."

"Control yourself better, then."

"Not to worry. I can hold my tongue."

"Good. I don't want to have to cut it out."

Janeth turned away from Zariel and back towards the hallway. "What time is it?"

"Probably around 0400."

"How many nights do you think we've spent standing outside a door?"

"As many as we've needed to."

Janeth adjusted his helmet and stood slightly straighter. "Fair enough."


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _13 ATC_

It hadn't worked.

A'tro didn't understand. It had seemed like such a good plan. Sleep with Savadar, possibly pursue some sort of continued relationship with him after that, and forget all about Quinn. But it hadn't _worked_. In fact, intimacy with another man had only made her think about Quinn _more_.

She paced up and down her office, frustration boiling away in her chest like a pocket of magma ready to break through to the surface. Quinn was far, far away—she didn't even know where he was. But she still wanted him. It was maddening.

And also, buried somewhere under the anger, more than a little frightening. No one should have this kind of hold over her.

At least no one knew. She had kept it a secret from her own crew, and by the time she had become a public figure it didn't matter anymore. Such a crack in her armor would have been easily exploited.

Of course, it didn't matter how well she hid the crack if she just ended up putting a blade through it herself.

A'tro continued to pace. Vette, had she been there, would probably have made a joke about her wearing a hole in the floor, but Vette wasn't there. She had sent Vette away, told her she was free to go, and she had taken the offer and left. A'tro didn't particularly care one way or the other; they had never exactly been friends. Vette had been helpful, and allowing her to leave the Empire seemed a fitting reward.

Vette was gone, and Pierce and Broonmark were off doing her bidding elsewhere—Pierce with the military, Broonmark on his own, where he seemed to do best. Jaesa had been, as far as A'tro could tell, making a valiant effort to learn what a proper Sith apprentice was supposed to do. This effort had amounted to a great deal of skulking about Kaas City and very little actually being done, but at least she was trying.

She was also the only one of A'tro's original crew to remain in proximity to her. A'tro thought that perhaps the dispersal of her followers should bother her, as she had worked so closely with them for so long, but the only one whose absence troubled her was Quinn.

A'tro paused in midstep as her personal holocom chimed. With a small sigh, she ceased her pacing and activated the device, audio only. "Yes?"

Zariel's voice crackled over the speaker. "I apologize for disturbing you, my lord, but there is a military officer here requesting to speak with you."

The bottom dropped out of A'tro's stomach.

"Shall we send her away?" Zariel asked.

Hearing the pronoun restored some semblance of sense to A'tro's mind, and she took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. "Has she said what she wants?"

"I believe she's seeking your assistance for her commander's campaign against the Republic."

A'tro raised a brow-ridge; she received numerous messages in that vein every day, but few were bold enough to approach her in person. "I will grant this officer an audience. Send her in."

"Yes, my lord." There was a click as Zariel ended the transmission.

A'tro retrieved a tie from a small compartment on her belt and secured her hair in its usual tail. She adjusted her gloves, took several more deep breaths, and remembered what it was to be a Sith, not some flustered pile of uselessness. Whoever this officer was, she wasn't Quinn. A'tro could handle anything and anyone that fell into that particular category.

She strode out into her antechamber with confidence, deliberately drawing upon the Force to grant herself a subtle aura of intimidation that would be perceived by even a Force-blind's limited senses.

Her visitor was a tall human woman dressed in a well-fitted Imperial military uniform with a major's insignia of rank. She had fair skin and short cropped black hair with longer bangs angled across her forehead. Her dark green eyes were accented by the subtle, elegant makeup. She carried no visible weapons other than a blaster holstered at her side, which apparently Janeth and Zariel had seen fit to allow her to keep. Then again, a blaster would do little good against a Sith.

"Lord Wrath," she said as soon as A'tro entered the room. She bowed deeply. "You are most gracious to grant me this audience. I'm Major Sharinet Merrik, here on—"

A'tro folded her arms across her chest. "You're looking to get my support for a campaign," she said, cutting her off. "You came to me directly, so you're either lacking in sense or overly ambitious."

Merrik looked startled by her frankness for a brief instant. Then her face composed itself into the attentive blank expression that all Imperial officers seemed to be trained in. "I admit, I was not instructed to seek you out in particular, my lord. However, I _was_ ordered to obtain Sith support, and it seemed more efficient to approach the most powerful of Sith rather than attempt to entice a multitude of the mediocre."

"How glib," A'tro said dryly. "I suppose you were given this assignment on account of your way with words."

"I'm often told I have a clever tongue, my lord," Merrik murmured, her blank expression cracking under the weight of a subtle smirk.

"That will get you into trouble someday, I suspect."

"Oh, it already has, my lord. More than once. But I've survived."

A'tro shook her head. "Make your case, then. I'm sure you have a fancy speech prepared."

Merrik stood slightly straighter. "Perhaps my lord Wrath would prefer to hear the abridged version."

A'tro sighed. "Just get on with it. I'm in no mood for games."

"I thought not," Merrik muttered. She stood at attention and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Are you familiar with the planet Telos, my lord?"

A'tro thought for a moment. "It's a Republic world. The site of a major Sith victory during the Jedi Civil War, if I recall the history correctly."

"Precisely, my lord. Telos, like Taris, was laid waste by the Sith. Unlike Taris, however, reconstruction efforts were able to restore the planet to its former glory. It now stands as a powerful symbol of Republic strength and resolve."

"And we want to crush all that, I take it?"

Merrik smiled. "Telos survived the wrath of the Sith three hundred years ago, but it will not be given that chance again. The commander of this campaign, Moff Aurelius Drayle—"

A'tro stopped hearing her.

Drayle was a fairly competent but largely unremarkable Moff who seemed unlikely to cause trouble. Born to a lower-class family, he had enlisted and ascended through the ranks in a textbook example of Imperial perseverance. He had performed well as a commander both before and after the Treaty of Coruscant, but not so well that he had garnered significant notice in the game of Sith political-military machinations.

She knew his background because she had looked into it. Because she'd had Malavai Quinn assigned to his command.

Merrik was clearly highly placed among Drayle's command staff. She probably knew Quinn. Had she approached her because of the connection between them?

No, no, she had Merrik figured out. The woman was clearly looking to climb up the chain of command, and recruiting a powerful Sith to win the war for them was an easy path to promotion. This was likely all a coincidence.

Coincidence…or the Force. Could it be that she was meant to end up where Quinn was? Could it be that the conflict within her would only be resolved by confronting him directly?

"—going smoothly, but the Republic has sent reinforcements that have greatly obstructed our progress," Merrik was saying, oblivious to A'tro's sudden turmoil. "With strong Sith support, however, it will be simplicity itself to annihilate Telos' defenses and plant the Imperial banner amidst the ashes."

A'tro thought about it for one long, hard moment that seemed to stretch on into eternity. Then she made up her mind. "Very well, Major," she said coolly. "I will lend my power to your endeavors. Inform Moff Drayle that I will be arriving on Telos soon."

Surprise, then smugness radiated from Merrik in the Force. "We are most grateful for your support, my lord." She bowed low. "I will convey the news to Moff Drayle at once."

A'tro nodded. "Dismissed." She turned and walked out of the room without waiting for Merrik to leave.

It was done. She was a warrior by nature. Involving herself in Dark Council politics was clearly not enough to drive Quinn from her thoughts. She had to fight, had to face him directly, before she could have any resolution. She would end both a Republic war effort and her personal problems in one stroke.

 _Through victory,_ she thought, _my chains are broken_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

 _Imperial Base, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

Moff Drayle had assembled a delegation on the main landing pad to greet the Wrath when she arrived, as was appropriate, but the longer they waited the more Quinn wished he'd had some feasible excuse to opt out of it. Nervous anticipation writhed nauseatingly in his gut, and the more he tried to suppress it, the more it tightened its coils.

He showed none of this outwardly, of course. Every Imperial officer was trained to maintain proper decorum at all times, even—or perhaps, given the military's relationship with the Sith, especially—when being eaten alive by fear. He was not afraid, not exactly, but he could not deny a degree of uneasiness as he speculated about the Wrath's motives.

Why would she come to Telos? Merrik could be a smooth talker, but Quinn doubted even she had the rhetorical prowess to convince the Wrath to go to a place where she surely knew he was. She had wanted him gone badly enough to transfer him far away from her, but now here she was, about to willingly put herself in contact with him again. It didn't make sense.

Perhaps she intended to kill him. It would be the Sith thing to do, and given how he had wronged her, not unreasonable. She had let him live then, but perhaps she had decided that his time had run out.

If that proved to be the case, Quinn would offer no resistance. What would be the point? He only hoped she wouldn't make a spectacle of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the thunder of engines as a _Fury-_ class starship broke through the low-hanging clouds and settled on the pad in a near-perfect vertical landing. Though largely indistinguishable from any other ship of its class, the slight wobble the vessel made as it touched down was distinctive, stemming from a minor fault in the port engine's wiring. The only way to prevent the wobble was to recalibrate the power couplings after every flight, a task to which Quinn had, in better times, devoted many hours.

It was the _Alecto_ , there was no doubt about it. Whoever had landed it had done a very good job, which made him wonder. The Wrath was a gifted Sith, but she was a terrible pilot. Someone else had to be flying the ship. Someone who had replaced him.

A brief pang of regret went through him as he stood at attention. Moff Drayle walked down the short line of people, making sure everyone was in order, before settling himself at the head of the group. Merrik, standing close to the Moff, radiated smugness, and for a moment Quinn disliked her a great deal. But he couldn't hold her at fault for somehow bringing the Wrath there; she was only following orders.

Just like he had.

The _Alecto_ 's boarding ramp lowered to the floor. Quinn held his breath. A moment later, _she_ came marching out of the ship.

* * *

A'tro stalked down the ramp with Janeth and Zariel trailing behind her. Moff Drayle had assembled an entourage to greet her, as was proper. It was a smaller group than she would have expected, given her rank. An indication of personnel stretched thin, perhaps?

She scanned the faces, keeping her own expression grimly blank. Drayle stood in front in a white uniform; she skipped him over after a cursory glance. Merrik was standing not far behind him. She must have gotten a flight back immediately after speaking to A'tro.

And then there was Quinn. A'tro didn't particularly want to look at him, but she found herself doing it anyway. He looked much the same as he always did: straight-backed and stone-faced, looking like something out of a propaganda poster in his well-fitting black and gray. He was not looking at her.

A'tro reached Drayle, and was forced to pay attention as he launched into a greeting.

"My lord, welcome to Telos. We are humbled by your presence," Drayle said, bowing deeply. "It would be our utmost honor to fight alongside your illustrious self."

The constant flattery that came with high rank was starting to make her nauseous. "I look forward to aiding this campaign," she said. "We will lay waste to the Republic."

"Yes, my lord." Drayle gestured to the rest of the welcoming party. "My command staff and myself are at your disposal. Would you care for a tour of the base?"

A'tro suspected that the base was much like any other, but one had to maintain the formalities. "I would indeed."

"Very good, my lord. My apologies for not being able to escort you personally; I must return to the command center at once." Drayle turned towards the assembled personnel. "Quinn, show the Wrath our facilities."

A'tro had never believed in the Sith right to summarily execute anyone on a whim, but she suddenly understand why they might want to.

"Merrik, Lyn," Drayle continued, "I'll need you both in the command center. The rest of you, back to your posts." He turned back towards A'tro, oblivious to how close she was to snapping his neck with a thought. "My lord Wrath, it is an honor to have you. I promise my men and I will not disappoint." With another short, formal bow, he turned and left the landing platform.

The small group dispersed, leaving A'tro, her two silent guards, and Quinn.

"Captain," A'tro said, the word rasping through her suddenly dry throat.

"My lord," Quinn said quietly. He made eye contact for the briefest of instants, then broke it with a bow.

Was he nervous? She hoped he was nervous.

Quinn straightened and took a breath. "My lord, welcome to Telos. If you would follow me, I will bring you up to speed on the nature of our fortifications."

Now he sounded like himself, all clipped formality. A'tro supposed it would have been too much to expect for him to give any kind of discernible reaction to her arrival. She briefly prodded at his presence in the Force, but found nothing that she could interpret.

"Let's get on with this, shall we?" she said briskly. Continuing to stand there would accomplish nothing, and she didn't want Janeth and Zariel to figure out anything close to the truth of the situation. Her history with Quinn was none of their business.

Quinn inclined his head acquiescently and started walking. A'tro followed, feeling unsettled.

The tour proved to be entirely unnecessary, as the base was constructed from prefabricated units arranged in the standard configuration of optimal defensive capabilities calculated by the Ministry of Logistics. It was smaller than A'tro would have expected, given that it was the launching point of an entire planetary invasion. She had a feeling Drayle had fewer resources to work with, and was faring far worse, than either he or Merrik had let on.

She let Quinn talk, giving an occasional affirmative monosyllable as he glibly rattled off the functions of each part of the base. She hoped that Janeth and Zariel were paying attention, because if there was anything important in Quinn's explanation, she was missing it. She was much too busy trying to act normal to actually focus on his words, instead letting it all fade into a steady background hum that was surprisingly soothing.

 _I always enjoyed listening to him talk._ That was a treacherous line of thought to follow. A'tro forced her attention back to the present as Quinn finally stopped walking outside a door set on a narrow hallway that was out of the way of the main traffic area.

"This is an office space that has been made available to you for whatever business you may wish to conduct, my lord," Quinn said. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "If there is nothing else you require of me, I will return to my duties."

A'tro nodded. "That will be all. Dismissed."

Quinn bowed and walked away quickly.

A'tro looked to Janeth and Zariel. "Are you capable of performing a security sweep of this room?"

"Certainly, my lord," Zariel said.

"Good. Do so. I'm going back to the ship." A'tro turned sharply and walked away in the opposite direction from where Quinn had gone. _I need time to think._


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

 _Imperial Base, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

A'tro made her way back towards the landing pad, trying not to walk too quickly lest she betray that she was very much trying to run away. She had miscalculated yet _again_ , deluded herself into thinking that by coming face to face with Quinn once more she could experience some sort of closure.

She was wrong. She had never been more wrong. She had been lying to herself the whole time. She didn't _want_ closure, didn't _want_ to remove him from her life. It had been less than two months since she'd sent him away, but it had felt like a lifetime. Seeing him again had sent her every sense into overdrive and lit her nerves with a fire that was slowly searing into her brain an understanding that she was struggling with all her will to deny.

She would have to kill him. That was not the understanding, but it was the only solution. Quinn had to die. All her treacherous feelings would die with him.

It wasn't unusual. Sith did that sort of thing all the time.

She just wasn't certain that she had the strength.

She rounded a corner, feeling her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, and nearly collided with a slim woman carrying an armful of datapads. The woman gasped in surprise, dropping a number of the datapads onto the floor.

A'tro ground to a halt as the woman scrambled to scoop the datapads back up into her arms. She was in uniform, but hers was all black instead of gray, and she had no visible insignia.

"I'm so sorry, my lord!" the woman said breathlessly. She tried to salute, appeared to realize that carrying her cargo made that impossible, and bowed instead. "I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. I apologize."

A'tro looked her over. She was quite thin, thinner than looked healthy for an adult human female, and her fair skin had a pallid quality that suggested she rarely saw sunlight. She had neat, chin-length black hair, and wide eyes that were the same shade of dark blue as the ones belonging to the man from whom A'tro was trying so hard to escape.

"You are forgiven," A'tro murmured, the words coming out on autopilot.

The woman straightened from her bow into rigid attention. "Watcher Twenty, Imperial Intelli—I mean, _Sith_ Intelligence."

A'tro raised a brow-ridge, the new information intriguing her enough to push thoughts of Quinn off to the side. "I didn't realize Intelligence was organized enough to send people to the front lines again. What's your job here?"

"Tactical assessment and data analysis, my lord," Watcher Twenty said. She blinked for the first time since the conversation had started. "Sweet stars, you're the Emperor's Wrath."

A'tro started to feel ever so slightly amused. "I am."

"I once again extend my most heartfelt apologies for getting in your way, my lord," Watcher Twenty said, black brows knitting together in a nervous frown.

"Relax," A'tro told her. "You seemed to be in a hurry. Is something going on?"

"I was on my way to deliver a report to Moff Drayle. Reconnaissance has reported in from scouting the Republic's nearest defensive line and I felt it best to share the relevant information with him immediately."

"Then you should be on your way." A'tro thought for a moment. "In fact, I will accompany you. I think I'd like to hear this report myself."

"Of course. My lord." Watcher Twenty adjusted her hold on the datapads and started off at a brisk pace.

A'tro fell into step beside her. As much as she wanted to go back to her ship and mull over the Quinn situation, she had a duty to the Imperial war effort. That merited her full attention.

She briefly considering stopping by the office and retrieving Janeth and Zariel, then decided against it. They would probably find her easily enough, and she was tired of being constantly shadowed.

Watcher Twenty kept sneaking quick glances over at A'tro, as if keeping an eye on some sort of poisonous insect lurking just out of swatting range. She did it so often that A'tro half expected her to miss something directly in front of her, trip on it, and drop the datapads all over again. But they made it to the command center without incident. A'tro took a deep breath, steeling herself, for Quinn would surely be there, then slipped through the door after the Watcher.

Indeed, there was Quinn, conferring with Drayle, Merrik, and a woman with cybernetic optics and a colonel's insignia. Watcher Twenty skittered up to them, while A'tro followed more sedately behind.

"Sir, I have bad news," Watcher Twenty said without preamble. She deposited her pile of datapads atop the nearest console with a clatter. "The Republic has landed troops from off-planet and they've set up a position quite near our forward outpost."

"They're bringing in offworld reinforcements already?" Drayle mused. "They must be worried."

Watcher Twenty picked up one of the datapads and fidgeted with it. "They have two Jedi with them."

"And we have the Emperor's Wrath," Drayle countered. He nodded to A'tro as she approached. "My lord. Glad you could join us."

Watcher Twenty's fidgeting increased. "A scout managed to capture an image of one of the Jedi. It's not the best quality, but I believe that this particular individual is, well…" She lowered her voice. "A _defector_."

Merrik and the colonel exchanged glances. Quinn remained impassive.

A'tro moved up to stand at Watcher Twenty's shoulder, which was level with her eyes. "Are you absolutely certain of this?"

Watcher Twenty looked at the datapad she was holding, put it down, picked up another, and brought up an image on the screen.

A'tro peered at it. It had been taken from quite far away. She could just make out a figure in brown. "Is that the Jedi there?"

Watcher Twenty zoomed in on the figure. The resulting image was blurry, but A'tro was able to discern a rough impression of a face framed by dark hair.

A face with copper skin and golden eyes.

A'tro's blood ran cold.

"As you can see, the Jedi is almost certainly a Pureblood Sith," Watcher Twenty whispered. "Which is why I felt this warranted your immediate attention, sir."

Drayle nodded. "Keep the scout who captured this image out in the field and isolated from the rest of the troops. We don't want word of this spreading."

"Morale is bad enough as it is," Merrik muttered, so quietly that A'tro's Force-enhanced hearing barely picked it up.

"Already done, sir," Watcher Twenty said. "This needs to be handled delicately. And quietly."

"Do you have any idea as to the identity of this Jedi?" Quinn asked, speaking for the first time.

Watcher Twenty shook her head. "I'm working on it, but with the image quality being what it is, cross-referencing with the Intelligence archives is bringing back more matches than I have time to sort through with all my other duties. And the HoloNet connection here is _terrible_. I'm going to need more time."

"Prioritize your other duties first, Watcher," Drayle ordered. "We don't have time to waste."

"Respectfully, sir, I have to disagree," Quinn said. "Knowing the identity of the traitor could prove very valuable when fighting them. They will certainly be familiar with our standard tactics."

"Your opinion is noted, Captain," Drayle said. He turned back to Watcher Twenty. "Keep this information under wraps at all costs. You're dismissed."

Watcher Twenty saluted smartly, scooped up her datapads, and departed.

Drayle shook his head. "Emperor save me from Intelligence analysts and their eccentricities."

"She had a point," A'tro said. "And so does Quinn." It was the first time she'd said his name in weeks, and she nearly stumbled over it. "This needs to be dealt with."

"Frankly, my lord, our forces are spread thin," Drayle said grimly. "Mounting a direct assault on the Republic would require diverting troops from this base or one of our outposts."

"You don't need more troops, Moff," A'tro said, folding her arms across her chest. "You have me."

"Nevertheless, I do not believe we should rush into this situation unprepared." Drayle's tone switched from commanding to cajoling partway through the sentence as he appeared to remember to whom he was speaking. "My lord, I advise waiting for further information from our scouts. We have limited resources, and I do not wish to act in a manner that might waste any of them."

"I understand," A'tro said. She unfolded her arms. "It does intrigue me, however, that the situation presented to me on Dromund Kaas of an impending Imperial victory here on Telos appears to have been a falsification."

Drayle paled slightly. "My lord, I assure you, it was never my intention to mislead you. I don't know what Major Merrik told you—"

"I conveyed the message you instructed me to convey, sir," Merrik interjected silkily.

"We are having some difficulty making progress, that is true," Drayle said stiffly. "But I assure you, with you here, our victory is certain."

A'tro frowned. "I did not come to this wretched planet to counterbalance your own failings."

"Of—of course not, my lord," Drayle stammered. "I, uh—"

"The conquest of Telos will proceed," A'tro said coolly. "Whether or not you will need to be replaced when it is finished remains to be seen. I suggest you think that over." She turned and swept out of the room.

* * *

Quinn watched the Wrath go, her cape swirling behind her as she walked.

The four officers stood silently for several long moments. Then Drayle muttered something about inspecting the troops and left, somewhat shakily.

"That went well," Merrik drawled when he was gone.

Colonel Lyn ran a finger over the metal bar embedded along her temple. "Drayle's not used to dealing with Sith. He needs to get his act together before the rest of us are dragged down with him."

"She isn't normally like this," Quinn found himself saying.

Both women turned to look at him.

"I keep forgetting you used to serve with the Wrath," Lyn said. "What's your take on this?"

"She seems…distracted," Quinn said slowly, already regretting his failure to keep silent. "She's not one to threaten for no reason. There must be something else on her mind."

He had a feeling he knew what that something else was, too.

"Probably the whole 'rogue Sith' thing," Merrik said. "I imagine that must be odd to deal with."

"This could work to our advantage, though," Lyn said thoughtfully. "The Jedi gives us an excuse. Quinn, if you could talk to the Wrath, get her to convince Drayle to stop stalling and attack, we might accomplish something."

"I'm not certain I can do that, sir," Quinn said. The nervous anticipation he had felt earlier returned. "The Wrath may not be entirely open to my advice."

Merrik snorted. "Let me guess: she doesn't like you and that's why she stuck you here."

"The reason for my reassignment is not your concern, Major," Quinn said coldly.

Merrik raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I care for your tone, _Captain_."

"Enough," Lyn said firmly. "I won't have the two best officers in this whole contingent at each other's throats. Leave your Academy rivalry there in the past, where it belongs."

"Yes, sir," Merrik sighed.

"I apologize, sir," Quinn said.

Lyn shook her head. "We have to make the best of this situation. Quinn, if you can't talk to the Wrath, then I will."

"I could do it," Merrik said eagerly. "I already convinced her to come here, didn't I?"

"No," Lyn said flatly. "If you offend her with your unprofessionalism, that's two bridges burned. I won't have it."

Merrik looked slightly crestfallen. "Whatever you say, sir."

Lyn turned to Quinn. "I want you to go check in with Watcher Twenty and see if she has any other information. Anything at all that might help."

Quinn stood at attention. "Yes, sir."

"Merrik, check in with Faraday about the walkers."

"I'll get right on it."

"I'm going to find Drayle and try to advise him about handling Sith. Dismissed, both of you." Lyn strode off purposefully.

Merrik looked at Quinn. "In all seriousness, though. Is this going to be a problem? As in, will the Wrath not want to work with us because of you?"

"If it were going to be a problem, I doubt she would have agreed to your request," Quinn said. "As it is, I suspect she is displeased with Drayle's reluctance to take action."

"Aren't we all?" Merrik sighed. "I should be going." She walked away shaking her head, leaving Quinn standing alone.

He had answered Merrik's inquiry confidently, but he couldn't help but be concerned. A'tro was clearly distracted by something. It could be the traitorous Jedi.

It could also be him.

If his presence interfered with her concentration in battle, if she were hurt or killed because of it… No, that was a foolish and paranoid notion. A'tro had never been one to let her emotions interfere with her judgment; he knew that perfectly well. She would do her duty, and he would do his. It was the way it had to be.

* * *

A'tro found herself once again walking through the Imperial base deep in thought, but this time, she wasn't thinking about Quinn. She was thinking about someone else. Someone she hadn't thought about in a very long time.

The Jedi, who was clearly of Sith blood. The Jedi with copper skin and golden eyes, who even in the blurry image had looked a great deal like _her._

This would not do. This was more important than Quinn right now. Before she could even begin to find some sort of resolution to her personal conflict, this Jedi had to be destroyed. She would have to act alone, and she would have to act quickly, before further scouting missions produced clearer images.

It was a problem that she really should have expected to need to deal with sooner rather than later, but she had not expected that K'saria would survive long enough for it to be an issue. A'tro would not underestimate her again. Perhaps the Force had brought her to Telos to resolve more than just her issues with Quinn.

She could feel it in her heart, in her bones: after eight long years, she was finally going to have the chance to kill her sister.


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

 _Republic Outpost, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

The currents of the Force keened with tension like the air before a thunderstorm. K'saria Dhakar could feel it thrumming all around her where she knelt in meditation in the shadow cast by one massive leg of a Republic walker. The soldiers bustling around her shone in the living Force, their collective energies swirling together to form a window into the secret turnings of the universe.

K'saria looked into that window and saw doom. It bore down from all sides, storms that would eventually come together into a vast tempest of death and destruction. She could see it clearly: the dark side had come to Telos.

The darkness was always present in the Force, for it was as much a part of it as the light, the black silt lying on the bed of a clear, shining river. Now, something or someone had stirred the silt, muddying the light with swirling clouds of shadow.

The question was, what had caused this? The Imperial invasion had brought some darkness with it, but nothing like this. K'saria had been meditating on it ever since the change had occurred, and she could only conclude that the Force was acting in response to the arrival of a powerful Sith Lord.

It had been, she supposed, only a matter of time. The most surprising thing was that the Imperials didn't seem to have brought any Sith with them in the first place. It had given K'saria hope that they could reach a peaceful solution. She knew firsthand that Imperial commanders were far more reasonable without Sith lurking over their shoulders.

Now, though… The doom she could feel in the Force strongly indicated that peace was no longer an option.

"Master K'saria," said a calm, quiet voice.

She opened her eyes and looked up to see one of her fellow Jedi standing before her. Elaedrin Myn was human, twenty-one years old, and newly elevated to the rank of Knight. She had straight, shoulder-length blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face with wide, deep-set green eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and a full mouth. That mouth was currently a grim line as she regarded K'saria with her arms folded across her chest.

"Yes, what is it?" K'saria asked.

"Master Setia asked me to tell you that you're needed in the command walker right away," Elaedrin said. Her voice was flat, devoid of all but the faintest hint of emotion. "She said it was very urgent."

K'saria rose to her feet, brushing dirt off her knees, and kept her concern hidden. The war had taken its toll on Elaedrin, moreso than was to be expected. In her opinion, the young woman should have stayed a Padawan for some time yet, but Setia had disagreed.

"I won't keep her waiting, then," K'saria said, and started the short walk over to the walker that was serving as a command center. Elaedrin walked beside her, her arms still crossed.

K'saria looked over at her. "You seem tense," she observed cordially. In truth, she could sense more than tension in Elaedrin. There were shadows within her, shadows that her inner light was not strong enough to burn away.

"I'm fine."

"It's all right to be nervous. A little fear keeps you grounded in the present, where you should be."

"I'm not nervous. There is no emotion, there is peace."

"Jedi still feel, Elaedrin," K'saria said sharply. "There is a difference between serenity and apathy."

"With all due respect, Knight Dhakar," Elaedrin said, a faint note of resentment coloring her monotone, "I am not a Padawan who requires lecturing."

"I offer friendly advice, from one Jedi to another. That was all."

"Yes, I'm sure that was your intention," Elaedrin muttered.

K'saria would have liked to have said more, but they reached the command walker. She moved up its ramp and into the interior, Elaedrin following a short distance behind.

Inside the walker, Jedi Knight Setia Aru and Republic Commander Zaron Dalvenna stood over a holoprojector showing a topographical map of the area.

"K'saria, there you are," Setia said. She was human like her former Padawan, dressed in Jedi battle armor that rode easily on her tall, muscular frame. "Recon just reported in. A Sith ship landed at the Imperial encampment this morning. I'm sure you felt their presence too."

K'saria nodded. "What I have sensed is…disturbing."

Dalvenna raised an eyebrow. "That's one way of putting it. We got a few reads on the ship's drive signature. Intel says it's almost a perfect match with their record of the ship belonging to a Sith called the Emperor's Wrath."

The tangled web of portents hovering in the Force suddenly made a great deal more sense.

"We were hoping you could tell us more," Setia said.

K'saria pressed her lips together, thinking hard. "The Emperor's Wrath is a legend among Sith," she said finally. "Even the Dark Council is said to be wary of him. When the Wrath appears, which is not often, it is generally to carry out a death sentence ordained by the Emperor."

"This Sith's arrival is bad news, then," Setia murmured.

"It gets worse," Dalvenna said dourly. "The latest SIS reports are sketchy, but rumor has it this Wrath is new, and very active in the field." He gave K'saria a long, intent look, then removed a data cylinder from a pocket and inserted it into the holoprojector.

The projector flared brightly, replacing the map with a static-laden blue image of a figure wielding two lightsabers, frozen in mid-swing.

"This was taken on Corellia four months ago," Dalvenna said. He tapped the holoprojector controls, and the hologram expanded, showing a larger image of the figure's face.

Setia frowned and looked from the image to K'saria and back again. "She looks just like you."

Elaedrin, who had been hanging back near the walker's hatch, edged in closer for a better look.

"I believe I understand now," K'saria said softly.

"Understand what?" Setia asked.

"The Force has been trying to tell me something, I'm certain of it. Ever since this Sith—since the Emperor's Wrath—arrived, I've felt darkness closing in."

Setia narrowed her eyes. "Didn't you say once that you had a sister?"

"I do, yes. A twin." K'saria studied the hologram. It seemed to stare through her, as if she were the transparent one. "I had not thought to ever see her again."

"Looks like she came to you," Dalvenna said. He sighed wearily. "I hate to ask this, but we're going to be fighting this woman. If there's anything you can tell us about her, anything that might help…"

"I will tell you what I can. I do not know how useful it will be." K'saria clasped her hands together in front of her. "I hadn't seen K'hera in some time before I left the Empire. If she is now the Emperor's Wrath, I suspect she has changed a great deal."

Dalvenna started to say something, only to be interrupted by a man in Republic armor painted with camouflage patterns barging into the walker.

"This is a private meeting, soldier," Setia said coolly.

"I'm sorry, sir, Master Jedi," the soldier panted, "but we're under attack!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

 _Republic Outpost, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

A'tro pivoted out of the way of the Republic soldier's swing, twisting around the angle of his vibrosword to drive her left lightsaber deep into his torso. He should have known better than to engage a Sith blade to blade. As he staggered, she kicked his legs out from under him, letting the momentum of his fall drag her lightsaber and extend the wound from survivable to fatal.

She pushed the body off her blade with a casual blast of the Force, letting it fall with the other two who had first engaged her. There had been one more, but he had fled like a coward when she started cutting down his comrades. She had let him. He was only prolonging the inevitable.

She turned to face her next opponents. There were eight of them, heavily armored commandos by the looks of them, and they raced towards her from over the nearby hill, readying heavy weapons.

Beyond the hill lay the Republic encampment, half a dozen walkers that served as little more than a base for their scouts. The Imperial forces should have eliminated the lot of them a long time ago. When A'tro returned to the base, she would make Moff Drayle answer for his failure to act.

At that moment, however, she had more pressing matters to think about. Eight enemies were a challenge for most Sith to fight alone. For many, it would even be impossible. She knew that she shouldn't have gone running off on her own, she should have at least taken Janeth and Zariel with her, but she had wanted time to think.

There was nothing quite as relaxing as a fight to the death.

Here, with the dark side smoldering like a furnace deep in her consciousness and more ordinary adrenaline coursing through her veins, she could finally think clearly.

 _Emperor's blood, I needed this_ , she thought as she leaped for the center of the cluster of enemies headed towards her.

She was still in the air when she gave herself over to the Force's guidance. By the time she hit the ground and started killing, she didn't have to think about it at all anymore.

Some Sith went berserk in combat, going on mad rampages that they couldn't even remember when it was over. Darth Evendre had taught A'tro that she had to control the darkness, or it would consume her. Even though her master had turned out to be a traitor, A'tro had continued to follow those teachings. It wasn't the light side. It was just logical.

It was her control, her will that let her think clearly in the heat of battle, let her allow the Force to guide her actions even while her conscious mind contemplated something else entirely. So while her lightsabers moved in a deadly scarlet whirl, she let her mind's eye finally bring up the images she had been suppressing with all her might.

Quinn. She was still physically attracted to him, that was for certain. Several memories came to the surface, vividly enough that she faltered for an instant. The solid impact of a blaster bolt against her left shoulder, making a small crater in her armor deep enough to bite into the flesh beneath, shocked her back to full awareness. She quickly counterattacked, driving both lightsabers through the vulnerable faceplate of the soldier who had landed the shot.

And there was the problem. Quinn was a distraction. Every moment she spent in his presence was a moment spent lying to herself, denying that what she really wanted was him. Back on her crew, back in her life, back in her quarters every night to _don't think about_ that _now, you'll get yourself killed._

He had told her that he loved her, once.

A'tro found herself lowering her sabers into a guard stance. She looked around to see all eight commandos arrayed unmoving on the ground around her. Awareness of the world came rushing back. She breathed in the scent of scorched armor and blood and the raw, lingering fear that was still echoing in the Force. Her wounded shoulder started stinging. She ignored it; that level of pain was barely worth acknowledging.

Keeping her lightsabers at the ready, she stepped over the corpses and crested the hill. There were the Republic walkers, six of them, laid out in a semicircle in a flat-bottomed depression at the center of a loose ring of hills. A considerable number of soldiers were pouring out of them, arranging themselves in defensive formations and setting up heavy weapons and war droids with a degree of speed and efficiency that A'tro had to admit was impressive. As she watched, a number of them fanned out on either side of the encampment, probably intending to flank her and cut off her escape route. She would have to keep an eye on that.

At the head of the defenders stood three Jedi, one more than had been reported. Two were human; A'tro gave them a quick look and immediately dismissed them, focusing her attention on the third.

It _was_ K'saria. She said something to her companions and started walking towards A'tro, alone. Her lightsaber stayed on her belt.

A'tro kept her own lightsabers out and lit, letting K'saria come to her. As the distance closed between them, identical golden eyes met from identical faces. Though they were not completely identical, not anymore—A'tro's scar, her gift from Evendre, ensured that. And it appeared, much to her amusement, that K'saria was still dyeing her red hair black. She wondered briefly if the Jedi knew, and if it were against their rules.

In a few moments, it wouldn't matter.

"K'hera," K'saria said as she drew close enough to be heard without shouting.

A'tro scowled silently and leaped for the kill.

But K'saria was evidently prepared, and moved with Force-enhanced speed so that by the time A'tro had reached her, her lightsabers met a shining blue blade rather than K'saria's torso. A'tro landed, disengaged, and dropped into a Juyo opening stance. Her eyes were fixed on K'saria, but she kept her other senses and the Force focused on the Republic troops, which were now behind her.

"K'hera, what happened to you?" K'saria asked. She lowered her blade, holding it diagonal to her right side. She still spoke with an Imperial accent. "There's such darkness within you, now. Such hate. You didn't used to be like this."

"You never knew me, K'saria," A'tro said, her jaw clenching. "And my name is Darth A'tro."

"They said you were the Emperor's Wrath. How did this happen?"

"I became powerful," A'tro said grimly. "More powerful than you could ever hope to become."

K'saria shook her head. "That's Sith rhetoric talking. I can't believe that this is really you."

"And that's Jedi naïveté talking," A'tro countered. "Look deeper, K'saria. Remember your Sith teachings. You know where true strength lies."

"I do. And it is not with the dark side."

"Spare me your Jedi sentimentality. I have no interest in debating with you."

"No," K'saria murmured, "I suspect you're only interested in killing me. Isn't that right?"

"Did the Force tell you that?" A'tro asked dryly. "You always did like to go on about how it spoke to you."

"I am a Jedi," K'saria said firmly. "I am one with the Force, and with all life in the universe. Your intentions are clear. I ask only that you consider this, before you attack: do you truly wish to kill me of your own accord, or have you been conditioned by your upbringing?"

"You're delaying me so your men can surround me. It won't make a difference."

"We are _sisters,_ K'hera—A'tro." K'saria's mouth twisted at the word. "Twins. We have a special connection, even if we've both tried our whole lives to deny it. We shouldn't be fighting one another."

"Just because we're family doesn't mean I have to like you." A'tro tightened her grip on her lightsabers.

"Our mother taught you to think that way."

"Don't pretend she didn't teach you, too," A'tro spat, the perpetual flame of rage within her suddenly burning white hot. "Don't pretend you're any better than me! You were her favorite, her precious little Sith princess! And you failed her, you failed our whole family, the whole bloody Sith Order, and now you think that you can stand there and preach to me about right and wrong?"

"I failed no one but myself for not realizing the truth sooner."

A'tro shook her head and attacked. K'saria sprang into action, deftly parrying every blow.

"You think because the Jedi took you in, that gives your life _meaning?_ " A'tro demanded, pressing the offensive. "You have no meaning. You're nothing."

"We don't have to do this!" K'saria protested, moving backwards as she deflected the rain of attacks. "It doesn't have to be like this!"

"Did you tell the Jedi that no Sith Master wanted you?" A'tro taunted. "Did you tell them that you left Korriban as a nobody with no master and no future?"

"That was true once," K'saria said. She turned her defensive maneuvers into a series of quick, neat attacks. "The light gave me a purpose. The Jedi gave me a future. It doesn't matter what I was before."

"Nothing about you ever mattered," A'tro said derisively, twisting away from the attacks and countering. "You're going to die here on this insignificant speck of a world, and no one will remember you or care. Just like it should be."

"Even if you defeat me, our forces have you surrounded. You can't win."

"If you're going to ask me to surrender, my answer is no."

"If you fear the Emperor's retribution, the Jedi can—"

"Why?" A'tro asked, flurrying attacks against K'saria's blade, forcing her way to the center of her defenses until her single blue saber was locked against a cross formed by A'tro's two red blades. "Why do you keep _trying?_ I fight for the future of the Empire, and I would gladly die for that cause."

Across the deadly bars of red and blue, K'saria's face showed only calm tinged by sadness, though A'tro could feel her straining against her blades with all her might. "And what is the Empire's future? A galaxy awash in blood, ruled by fear."

"The blood of our _enemies_ ," A'tro hissed. She pushed forward, trying to overwhelm K'saria with sheer physical strength. "I'll pour yours out into the dirt of this place."

She saw K'saria's jaw clench, felt her guard start to falter—

A shadow fell over them. The Force whispered _danger_ , and A'tro leaped backwards as something went screaming through the air to hit the ground where she had been standing and explode in a sizeable fireball.

She looked up and saw Imperial landing craft circling like vultures, dropping more bombs and soldiers on the Republic troops. Blasterfire and explosions started to fill the air as fighting began in earnest, turning the scene into chaos.

 _It seems I was missed_ , she thought, and looked around for K'saria.

It took a few moments to locate her amidst the mayhem, but A'tro finally spotted her sister's brown-clad figure on the other side of the encampment, moving back among the walkers in a defensive formation with the other two Jedi.

A'tro almost went after her. Almost.

But there was a wall of battle between them, and she knew that by the time she had fought her way through, K'saria would be gone. Rage surged in her chest, nearly clouding her mind, but she released enough of it in one short, sharp sigh that she could think clearly.

She kept the rest of the anger close, let it fuel her as she raced over to the nearest knot of fighting and began laying waste to the Republic soldiers. Having the opportunity to settle the score with her sister was maddening, but an Imperial victory was more important than her old hatreds.

 _Besides,_ she thought sourly, _I still don't know what I'm going to do about Quinn._


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

 _Contested Territory, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

As the dropship made its way from the wreckage of the Republic encampment back towards the Imperial base, A'tro did her best not to look at Quinn where he stood on the opposite side of the cramped interior. The business with K'saria had distracted her from the miasma of doubt that he seemed to instill in her psyche every moment she was in his presence.

It hadn't always been like that. Seeing him had made her happy, once. With nothing to do until they returned to the base, she let herself remember the moment when it had all gone wrong.

* * *

 _Voss-Ka, Voss_

 _12 ATC_

Late afternoon was wearing into evening, and the sun's increasing proximity to the horizon turned the normal red and orange hues of Voss' sky into an even more vibrant display of color. Ribbons of deep pinks and golds fanned outward in the wake of the gleaming sun, while the somber purple of night eased its way into view at the far corners of the sky.

A'tro was not normally one to admire scenery, but with nothing to do but wait for the shuttle to the orbital station she was content to sit on a bench in the Imperial enclave and watch the celestial spectacle unfold. It was a welcome distraction from her increasingly grim thoughts.

She had stood in the literal Dark Heart of the Nightmare Lands and borne witness to the Voice of the Emperor himself. Even chained, even fading, he had carried such immense and terrible power. Beside that power, what was she?

"My lord," said Quinn's voice.

A'tro looked up and there he was, standing close to her bench with his hands behind his back, his posture as straight as the nearby lamp post. She hadn't taken him with her into the Nightmare Lands. She had gone alone, not trusting anyone else to be strong enough to endure the rigors of that place. It had been…strange.

"What is it, Captain?" she asked quietly. Truth be told, she had feared for his safety if he had accompanied her. Quinn was strong-willed, but…

"I wanted to inform you that the last shuttle of the day leaves in less than an hour," he said.

She had already known that, and he had surely known that she knew, which meant that he really wanted to talk about something else.

"Sit down, Quinn," she told him, motioning to the empty spot on the bench beside her.

He hesitated, his demeanor becoming even stiffer. "I'm not certain that would be proper—"

"There's no one around."

"If—if that is what you wish, my lord." He settled himself on the very edge of the bench, radiating discomfort.

A'tro started to worry. If there was one thing Quinn possessed in abundance, it was confidence. To hear him stumble over words was strange. "You seem tense," she said softly, careful not to let her voice travel too far beyond the bench. "Is something wrong?"

He glowered off into the distance. "Not exactly. There's just—I find myself in a difficult situation, and I'm uncertain of how to explain the matter."

"If you need time to think, I can wait."

"No. No, I don't think it should wait." Quinn turned to face her, some indefinable emotion flickering in his eyes. "My lord, I—" He stopped and looked around. "I'm falling in love with you," he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "I've tried to keep this development to myself; I don't want to make any presumptions about the nature of our relationship." The words seemed to be tumbling out almost too fast for his mouth to keep up. "But things are changing, and I felt I shouldn't remain silent any longer."

"You're right," A'tro said. Her voice, and everything around her, seemed to be far, far away. "Things are changing."

Quinn wilted visibly. "I apologize for bringing this up like this, but I felt you should know that I—"

A'tro cut him off. "I've been thinking too, Quinn." She took a deep breath, the darkness that had been lurking at the borders of her thoughts swirling and crashing into the forefront. "Given my new responsibilities, I believe it would be best if we terminate this relationship before it goes too far. I have enjoyed our time together, but I cannot afford to have any weaknesses in this battle against Baras."

A small spot of color appeared on each of Quinn's cheeks, looking drastically red against his pale skin. "I see." He stood up quite abruptly. "If you will excuse me, my lord, I am going to check on the status of the shuttle."

He walked away before she could say anything. A'tro watched him go, her hands falling to her sides and latching onto the edge of the bench with a viselike grip.

 _This was the right thing to do,_ she told herself. _It's for the best. I am the Emperor's Wrath, now. I can't afford to be tied down, can't afford a potential distraction. That's all this ever was, anyway. A distraction._

She had spoken with the Emperor's Voice, come face to face with reality. Ending her affair with Quinn was the logical choice to make, for both their sakes. Because when he'd said he loved her, there was a part of her that had very much wanted to answer in kind. That was weakness, and now she'd cut that weakness out. It would hurt for a while, but she would be stronger for it.

That was what she told herself as she made her way to the landing platform. It was what she told herself as she boarded the shuttle, and what she told herself as she waited out the flight in tense silence while Quinn sat as far away from her as he could without seeming rude.

She was still justifying it in the back of her mind when she reported the success of her mission to the Emperor's Hand. When the conversation was over and the holoimages of Servant One and Servant Two faded away, the sound of Quinn's voice was as startling as a sudden dousing of icy water.

"My lord, I'm afraid that we cannot go to Corellia at this time…"

As the _Alecto_ sped through hyperspace to their new destination, A'tro tried to recover her resolve, and found it shattered.

 _I can't do this_ , she realized. _Force help me, I'm too weak. I can't do it._

She had to make things right. Quinn was alone on the bridge, but she didn't want to talk to him while he was piloting. She would bring him with her onto the transponder vessel, get him alone, and do her best to salvage the situation.

 _I'll apologize to him_ , she decided. _I wasn't thinking clearly. If he's willing to forgive me, we can continue. If not…then I'll just have to come to terms with my own stupidity._

Her plan seemed to work perfectly. Quinn volunteered, and so she took him with her onto the enemy ship. It wasn't even suspicious to the others. The Force was with her, stirring nervous anticipation into a hurricane deep in her stomach.

She was so distracted by her emotions that she didn't even stop to wonder why they hadn't encountered much resistance. She let Quinn take the lead, since he knew the layout of the ship, and when he came to a halt in the center of a large, empty room, she saw an opportunity to make her case.

But Quinn spoke first. "My lord," he said coolly. "I regret that our paths must diverge."

And then A'tro realized that she was far, far too late.

* * *

 _Imperial Base, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

She had very much wanted to kill him then, and perhaps she should have, but she couldn't. Even now, she still didn't hold Quinn accountable for his actions. It had been Baras' plan, and she had unwittingly pushed him over the edge into carrying it out.

Logic and all her Sith teachings told her that she should kill him now and eliminate her ceaseless internal debate. But as she stepped down from the shuttle and watched him walk off towards the command center, she realized, quite suddenly, that there was another way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

 _Imperial Base, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

Following the Imperial victory at the Republic encampment, Quinn found himself back in the command center, looking over the data collected from the various reports on the details of the attack. The Imperial troops had performed capably at a level matching his estimates, which was not bad, but it was clear that the true credit for the decisive victory went to the Wrath.

He'd watched her out there, cutting through the enemy with such grace and finesse that she made it seem effortless—and knowing her abilities as he did, it probably was. She had even managed to scare off the three Jedi; they had not attempted to engage her, instead guarding the survivors' retreat. It was standard Imperial policy to always let a few get away and spread fear with tales of what they had seen.

They'd seen plenty, and so had Quinn. The attack was something that should have already happened. His research suggested that Moff Drayle was not an incompetent commander, but it seemed that the man was becoming increasingly crippled by paranoia. It was a shame, really.

 _Sometimes the mind is the most difficult enemy to defeat_ , Quinn reflected.

The thought rang particularly true for himself. Watching A'tro move with the silken lightning assuredness of an apex predator, primal joy burning in her golden eyes as she dominated the battlefield like an ancient Korribani death goddess brought to spectacular life… It had reawakened things within him that he'd thought buried. Sentiments he had believed to have withered away.

He knew it didn't matter what he thought or how he felt, but it was inconvenient. This was going to keep him up at night.

Quinn was so absorbed in his thoughts that it took him a moment to notice that the technicians chattering nearby had fallen silent and were looking in his direction with barely-concealed trepidation. He turned away from the console where he had been viewing the data and found himself face to face with one of the Wrath's Imperial Guard entourage.

"Captain Quinn," the Guard said, her voice crackling through her helmet speaker.

There was something familiar about her voice. Quinn started to feel uneasy.

"The Emperor's Wrath requests your presence in her office here on the base," the Guard continued. "She wishes to hear your analysis of the recent battle."

He recognized her voice now. He'd only heard it a few times in his life, but it surely had to be… "Commander Zariel?" he asked tentatively, using the title he'd last known her to hold.

Arden Zariel inclined her head slightly. "I advise you not to keep the Wrath waiting," she warned.

Quinn saluted her stiffly. "Yes, sir." He turned off the console and walked towards the command center's exit, leaving his mother standing silent and implacable in her faceless red armor.

* * *

There had always been two distinct schools of thought in Sith philosophy. The first, considered to be the more traditional approach, taught that the power of the dark side came from intense emotions, particularly rage and hatred. The second, less acknowledged but always present, taught that true strength came not from emotions, but from their absence, for while stars burn brightly for a time, in the end even they must succumb to the empty cold of space.

A'tro had always subscribed to the second doctrine; an avid reader of history, she had noted that the strongest Sith always seemed to be those capable of great cunning and calculation. Naturally, she had wanted to be the strongest Sith she could possibly be, so she had forced herself to learn discipline and control. It had not been easy. She had never been able to make herself feel _nothing_ , but she was able to keep her feelings from controlling her. Or so she'd thought.

Years of ingraining the concept that _emotion is weakness_ deep into her mind led to every instinct she had screaming at her that what she wanted to do now was wrong. It was wrong, and it was foolish, and she would surely suffer consequences if she went through with it.

She ignored her instincts and focused on the small voice that whispered _when was the last time you let yourself have something you wanted?_

What she wanted was Quinn, of course. It had been a mistake to push him away on Voss, and she had only continued to make error after error in dealing with him since. Removing him from her life only made her want him more. Denying that only made her conflicted, and the Emperor's Wrath couldn't afford to be conflicted.

It wasn't as if the other members of the Dark Council abstained from romantic relationships.

There was, of course, the jurgoran in the room—the fact that Quinn had tried to kill her. But that had been on Baras' orders, and given how A'tro had just clumsily broken off their relationship, she really couldn't blame him for carrying those orders out. She would have done the same thing in his place.

She had never taken the events at the transponder vessel personally. Why would she? It was how Sith lived. In all her deliberations, it was barely even a factor.

Baras was dead, so the likelihood of him sending out any more assassination orders was rather slim. Quinn was a loyal man, and she was reasonably certain he wasn't secretly working for anyone else. She would much rather be with someone who had only once tried to kill her on someone else's orders than with a Sith, who would almost certainly make multiple attempts because it was expected and because they could.

She had made up her mind, finally. She had sent Zariel to fetch Quinn under the pretense of wanting to consult with him about the recent battle.

The desk in the office assigned to her was slightly too high for her to sit on and still keep her feet on the floor, so she settled for leaning against the front of it, gripping the edge so tightly she could feel the metal slowly giving under her fingers.

She would be honest with him. It was all she could do, even if it went against everything she had ever been taught. If there was anything she'd learned from her experiences of the past few years, it was that the Sith, and their teachings, were not infallible.

 _What is the point of this?_ the logical part of her mind demanded. _You're going to bare your soul to him, and he probably doesn't even want anything to do with you ever again. What is this going to accomplish?_

A'tro closed her eyes and breathed in, held it, then exhaled slowly. She repeated the exercise until her heartbeat was steady and her mind was as clear as she could make it, given the circumstances.

 _Closure_ , she told herself. _If nothing else, this will give me closure._

There was no reason to argue with that.


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

 _Imperial Base, Telos_

 _13 ATC_

The door opened, and Quinn stepped into the room. The calming effects of A'tro's meditative breathing were immediately dashed as her heart rate spiked at the sight of him.

He bowed formally. "You wished to see me, my lord?" His tone was cordial, attentively obedient without seeming obsequious. He was good at that.

A'tro kept her face impassive despite the sensation that some sort of cyclone was forming inside her stomach. She used the Force to lock the door; this was not the sort of conversation she wanted interrupted.

"Yes, I did," she replied. "However, I have more important matters to discuss than your thoughts on the battle."

Quinn was frustratingly hard to read, even in the Force, but as his posture stiffened in response to her words, she caught a distinct note of fear.

"Relax," A'tro told him. "This isn't an interrogation." _Or an execution. I can't believe I even considered that._

He frowned slightly. "I must admit to some confusion."

"That's understandable. I probably could have handled this better," she admitted. There was no turning back, however. "I would like to revisit our conversation on Voss."

It was clear that Quinn immediately knew what she was referring to, as his face abruptly lost all traces of expression.

A'tro weighed her options for a moment, then decided to plunge forward. "I made a critical error in my handling of the situation, and for that I—"

The next two words were ones that she had uttered only a handful of times in her thirty years of life, and they nearly stuck in her throat. After a moment of struggle, she managed, in a voice barely above a whisper: "I apologize."

Quinn's frown returned with a vengeance. "My lord, please, this is entirely unnecessary. I overstepped, and you responded appropriately."

"I disagree."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I—" Quinn started, then stopped, his eyes going to the floor. "My lord, I have duties to attend to," he said quietly.

"You may leave once I've said my piece," A'tro said. She was surprised by how calm she was. "When we talked on Voss, I was distracted by my recent experience in the Nightmare Lands. I wasn't thinking clearly, and that led me to respond poorly to your inquiry. Were we to have that conversation again, however, I believe that I would respond in the affirmative."

Quinn's eyes went very wide. "I'm not certain I understand."

"Ending our relationship was a mistake," A'tro said bluntly. "Reassigning you was also a mistake. I cannot continue to deny that I have feelings for you, Quinn. What you choose to do with this information is up to you, but I felt it best to be honest."

Was that a blush creeping across his pale cheeks? "My lord," he said—always the title, it was starting to annoy her— "You are putting me in a very uncomfortable position."

"I realize that."

"With all due respect, I'm not sure you do." He stopped, mouth tightening. "Permission to speak freely?"

A'tro wished he would loosen up a bit; it would make the whole affair less awkward. "Of course."

Quinn put his hands behind his back, falling into parade rest. "There are several factors that need to be addressed." He became the image of clinical analysis. "First, and I believe foremost, I attempted to assassinate you. I believed that to be the reason for my reassignment, but it seems I was mistaken."

A'tro raised a brow-ridge. "A reasonable conclusion to draw. I don't see the issue."

Quinn looked at the wall. "My lord, I tried to kill you. That constitutes a rather severe breach of trust."

A'tro shrugged. "Given that you were acting on Baras' orders, I have always held him responsible, not you. When I killed him, my desire for revenge was sated and I put the entire affair out of my mind. Besides, you more than made up for it with your excellent performance on Corellia."

"I'm flattered." He returned his gaze to her. "There is…something else."

A'tro nodded. "You may speak your mind, Quinn. Whatever you might say, I give you my word that I will not retaliate with violence. Or by any other means; your career has suffered enough at the hands of pettiness."

"That was not my concern, my lord," he said, though a thread of relief spiraled through his Force presence. "I was not expecting to have this conversation. I'm uncertain of how best to say what I wish to express."

"Take your time. This is important."

"I'm well aware of that," he murmured. "Which leads me to my next point: that _you_ are important. You are a symbol, an example to the entire Empire, and I cannot think of a better one. I am not entirely ignorant of the workings of Sith politics, however, and I know that your status makes you a target. A romantic partner would be powerful ammunition for your enemies to use against you."

"I've considered that. Particularly since it's the argument you made against becoming involved with me in the first place."

"It is a valid argument, my lord."

"Should I be reading into the fact that you're making it rather than rejecting me outright?" A'tro inquired, hope fluttering just out of reach of cynicism's dark clutches.

Quinn was definitely blushing, now. "My feelings for you have not changed. In the greater scheme of things, however, they also don't matter."

A'tro swallowed hard. "Quinn, if you want me, there is no power in the universe that should keep us apart."

He scowled at the floor. "I am trying to be rational."

"So am I," she retorted. "Think about it. I'm one of the strongest Sith the Empire has seen in decades, if not centuries. You are a brilliant, gifted military commander. Together, we'd be invincible."

"Invincible on the battlefield, perhaps. Not to an assassin in the dead of night."

"What are you trying to say?" she demanded. "Should we deny ourselves out of fear of what _might_ happen? Is that what you want?"

"No," Quinn said softly. "No, that is not what I want."

A'tro put her hands on her hips. "Then it seems to me that we should give this another try."

"It's not that simple," Quinn snapped, speaking with more emotion than A'tro had ever heard him use before. "You are a Sith Lord. As an Imperial citizen, I am obligated by law to obey you. I do so willingly, as I believe in the principles of the Empire, but those principles are not a solid foundation for a healthy romantic relationship."

A'tro stood silently, stunned.

"I care for you a great deal," Quinn said, his voice going brittle at the last few words. "But your obligations as a Sith led you to terminate our involvement once. It could happen again. I do not wish to live in a state of perpetual uncertainty where my emotional investment could be compromised on a whim."

He stopped speaking quite abruptly, as though suddenly regretting his words.

 _So_ that's _what's been bothering him,_ A'tro realized.

It made sense. It made an _abundant_ amount of sense.

And she had no idea how to convince him that he didn't have to worry about it.

"I wish I had more than my word to give you that I will not repeat my previous mistake," she said quietly. "Were we to resume our relationship, I would treat you with respect, as an equal. I don't intend to take any of this lightly."

Quinn said nothing.

"I believe in honor," A'tro said. "In loyalty. You've seen my loyalty to the Empire. I would extend the same level of dedication to you. The events of the past year have taught me a valuable lesson about thinking before acting, and I promise that I will never again act without consideration where you are concerned."

 _I love you_ , she almost said, but she didn't want to drop that mass driver of a phrase just then. It would surely be too much. The feeble words she'd already offered would have to be enough.

Quinn hesitated. Then he hesitated some more. The silence stretched out like a wire, tenser and tenser. Her heart plummeted so fast she thought she could feel it burning.

He cleared his throat. "I can't say no to you."

A'tro's heart reversed its trajectory. "Does that mean…you're willing to try?"

"Yes, though I am not certain how to proceed from here," he admitted. "We are, after all, in the middle of a war."

"Well," A'tro said breathlessly, "You could start by kissing me, and we'll see how it goes from there."

He was standing across the room, which was small, but even so it seemed that A'tro only blinked and he was _right there_ in front of her, so close she could feel his warmth. And then his hands were on either side of her face, tentatively tracing the ridges on her cheeks with gloved fingertips, and she stood on her toes to bring herself closer because she was so frustratingly short. He bent down and brushed his lips across hers, slow and hesitant, letting them reacquaint themselves, then joined them together, intent and yearning but still gentle.

When they drew apart several long moments later, A'tro was smiling uncontrollably, and she didn't particularly care.

Quinn, by contrast, looked almost somber, but his face was flushed and his eyes were burning with something that was definitely not sadness. "That was— My lord—"

"No," A'tro interrupted. "No titles. We're going to do this properly. I want you to use my name. Only privately, of course, but still."

"That will take some getting used to, but I'll do my best."

"Good," A'tro said firmly. "I meant what I said about treating you as an equal."

"In the interests of fairness, then, I believe perhaps you ought to call me Malavai," Quinn murmured.

A'tro grinned broadly. "Very well, Malavai."

Quinn's blush deepened. "This is not how I expected this day to turn out."

"Me neither," A'tro said wryly. Her smile faded slightly. "I have a feeling that making this work will require many more serious conversations, however."

"Given our present circumstances, I believe that will have to wait."

A'tro nodded. "Let's go focus on conquering this planet, then."

Quinn smiled. It was a small smile, and a bit solemn, but A'tro could see its truth in his eyes and feel it in the Force. "That seems a prudent course of action. To start, I believe you may be interested in my analysis of the recent battle…"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** The previous chapter marked the conclusion of part one of this story. Part two begins now, one year after the events on Telos.

* * *

 **Fifteen**

 _Dark Council Chambers, Korriban_

 _14 ATC_

"We are in agreement, then," Darth Marr said. "The leadership of the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence is hereby given to Darth Nox."

Nox, lounging in the thronelike chair to Marr's right with calculated nonchalance, allowed her usual half-smile to develop into a full smirk.

"Have you all lost your minds?" Darth Ravage demanded from across the room. "How can you tolerate this outrage— _support_ it, even!"

"I am no happier about it than you," the holoimage of Darth Rictus said. "But these are more desperate times than any of us care to admit."

"We are not so desperate that we need to compromise our own structure just to give _her_ more power!" Ravage glared at Nox.

"Are you speaking out in defense of tradition, Ravage?" Darth Mortis asked with thinly veiled amusement.

Ravage shifted the focus of his glare. "I didn't hear you object."

"On the contrary," Mortis murmured, "I believe this to be in all of our best interests."

"What hold does she have on you that you all agreed to this travesty? What sorcery has she used to ensnare you? We could have given that sphere to anyone. Anyone! And you fools just handed it to her!"

"Calm down, Ravage," Marr rumbled. In the Force, Nox caught a note of spiteful joy before it was quickly and ruthlessly suppressed.

Ravage ignored Marr, turning instead to Nox. "I'm sure you find all of this very amusing."

She covered her mouth with one hand and giggled. "You know me so well."

"If you expect me to sit idly by and allow this—"

"There is nothing to allow," Marr interrupted. "The Council has already agreed."

"The Council?" Ravage made a show of looking around the room. "There are only five of us here, Marr, not including _her_. And where the hell is Vowrawn? I would expect him to be chuckling over this spectacle of fools."

"He's plotting something, no doubt," Mortis said.

Seated beside Ravage, Darth A'tro, the Emperor's Wrath, spoke up for the first time since the argument had started. "The war has taken its toll on our numbers. Perhaps it is wise to consolidate power among our strongest members."

"Oh, that's a fine idea," Ravage retorted. He didn't usually argue with the Wrath, but it seemed he was angry enough to make an exception. "And do you know how that ends? Some fool declares himself emperor, and then everyone loses."

A'tro smiled broadly at him, showing pointed teeth. "Maybe _you_ lose."

Ravage's mouth tightened into a grim line, and he receded silently into his chair.

Nox rather liked the Wrath. She had style, and a degree of integrity that was rare among Sith. The Empire needed more like her. They lost as many men every day to infighting as they did to the Republic.

"Gentlemen," Nox declared, winking at A'tro, "it is my honor to accept the responsibility you have seen fit to bestow upon me."

"It was your bloody idea," Ravage grumbled.

Nox ignored him. "Rest assured that under my control, Sith Intelligence will grow and flourish far beyond its former self. Our enemies will have no secrets that we cannot learn, no weaknesses we cannot exploit, no strategy we cannot anticipate. The Republic and its pitiful Strategic Information Service will be left floundering in the darkness—a darkness of the Empire's making."

"Well," Mortis said into the ensuing silence, "she certainly has _passion_."

Nox folded her hands neatly in her lap. Sometimes a little drama was necessary to get the point across.

"How very eloquent," Ravage said acidly. "Would someone care to explain to me how a former slave is supposed to run an intelligence agency without running it into the ground?"

That earned him several frowns; mentioning one's pre-Council history was considered a fairly severe breach of etiquette. Of course, if Nox had learned anything over the past two years, it was that Ravage didn't give a damn about etiquette or anything else.

"Would you prefer we attempted to continue operating with the sham of an organization we have now?" A'tro inquired. "I've been on the front lines. It's a mess."

"I have _also_ been on the front lines, and I know very well that we need Intelligence restored to its former strength," Ravage replied. "We can do better, however, than _Nox_."

Nox smiled.

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have killed the only other Darth who was willing to take the spot," A'tro pointed out.

Ravage shrugged. "If he was smart enough to do his job, he wouldn't have picked a fight with me. I did us all a favor."

"The fact remains," A'tro said. "Nox is our only option."

Under normal circumstances, every time a seat on the Dark Council opened, there would be dozens of Sith clamoring for the Council's favor, hoping to be appointed. However, the Sphere of Intelligence had been previously held by Darth Jadus—and while he had not been seen in three years, there was no evidence that he was dead. Given Jadus' tendency to vanish and reappear, and especially given what had happened last time, no Sith was willing to risk his ire should he return and find his position on the Council filled by someone else.

No one except Nox.

Ravage continued to complain. "If it's Nox or no one, I think I'd rather—"

The door to the Council chamber opened.

A human woman in light Sith battle armor took a few steps inside, flanked by two Dark Honor Guards with their weapons drawn. Nox recognized her after a moment: Elaedrin Myn, a former Jedi Ravage had acquired a few months ago. Like most of his apprentices, she was in her mid-twenties and quite pretty.

"My lords, I beg your pardon for this interruption," Elaedrin said. She had kept her Republic accent, which Nox personally thought was a wise choice; most dark Jedi who tried to sound Imperial did a very poor job of it.

Elaedrin tried to move farther into the chamber, but the Dark Honor Guards stopped her.

"Shall we remove her, Lord Marr?" one of them asked.

Marr's mask turned toward Ravage. "I expect this to be good."

Ravage scowled. "Elaedrin, you have ten seconds to explain this before I let the Honor Guards kill you."

Elaedrin's eyes went wide. "Darth Vowrawn is dead."

"Wonderful. Now we have to replace him, too," Nox sighed.

"Ravage," Marr said ominously.

"It wasn't me," Ravage snapped. "This is the first I've heard of this, I swear."

"And yet one of your apprentices has announced it."

"If I could claim credit for dispatching that pompous windbag, I would."

"Your lack of respect for your betters will be your undoing someday," Marr said grimly. "I will be there to see it."

Ravage casually let one hand fall to his side where his lightsaber rested on his belt. "Why wait any longer?"

Nox leaned forward eagerly. The feud between Ravage and Marr had been a mainstay of Council politics ever since she'd been there. If things were about to heat up… She did love to watch men fight.

"I have no time to waste on trivial matters," Marr said with crushing indifference. "Vowrawn was on the Council for a very long time, and he kept himself in power with great cunning and strategy. Killing him was no mean feat."

Nox watched Ravage carefully for a reaction, but her discerning eye and Force senses detected nothing at all. Intriguing and disappointing in equal measure.

"The Republic," Darth Rictus' holo said. "One of their Jedi Shadows."

"He was killed by a lightsaber, my lord," Elaedrin said, daring to speak up again.

"So it was a Jedi or a Sith," Nox drawled. "That doesn't particularly narrow down the possibilities."

"If a Republic assassin managed to reach Vowrawn, then we are all at risk," Marr said. "I suggest we end this meeting and consult our own defenses. The Council cannot afford to lose more members."

There were various nods and murmurings of agreement.

Nox was suspicious. The average tenure of a Dark Council member was lower than ever these days, but most of the ones doing the dying were relatively new, not veterans like Vowrawn. She had a feeling there was more going on than a power grab or a Republic operation.

And as the new leader of Sith Intelligence, who better than she to find out the truth?


	16. Chapter 16

**Sixteen**

 _Korriban Orbital Station_

 _14 ATC_

Nox strolled down the station corridor, heading for the docking tube where her ship waited. A'tro walked beside her, arms folded across her chest.

"You'll be in the history books for this, you know," A'tro was saying. "No one member of the Dark Council has ever held two spheres before. Not ever."

Nox gave her a sidelong glance. "As long as the Emperor doesn't object…"

"I didn't follow you over here to execute you, if that's what you're worried about."

Nox pretended to relax. She still kept her guard up, of course. "Just checking."

"I'd be more concerned about the rest of the Council, were I you."

"They all agreed to it. You were there."

"I was. I still find it difficult to believe."

"Regretting your decision to support me?" Nox asked lightly.

A'tro shook her head. "I stand by what I said about consolidating power. I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you pulled this off."

"Our fellow Council members, while occasionally irritating to work with, are not stupid," Nox said. "They know when something is in their best interests. And I can be quite persuasive."

A'tro mirrored her earlier sidelong glance. "You slept with each and every one of them, didn't you?"

Nox snorted. "If that was all it took to get my way around here, I would have accomplished this ages ago."

"You've tried, then?"

"Certainly not," Nox sneered. "Our colleagues may be powerful, but the dark side has _not_ been kind to most of them. I'm not going to bother when I know it won't get me anything."

"'Most' of them?" A'tro inquired.

"Well, they say the last time Marr took off his mask, eleven people died, but that doesn't mean he's hideous. And there's you, of course."

A'tro made a soft sound that might have been a snicker. "Why, Nox, I didn't realize I was your type."

"Not in _that_ sense, no, but I do admire the whole 'majestic warrior goddess' aesthetic you have going on."

"I'm flattered."

"I prefer the 'mysterious Sith enchantress' look, myself," Nox continued blithely. "I find it rather effective."

"You've certainly acquired something of a…reputation," A'tro said delicately.

"I am well aware of my considerable sex appeal, and not using it would be a criminal waste. Speaking of which—how's your personal life?"

A'tro gave a start at the abrupt change of topic, then scowled. "Personal."

"Sounds lovely," Nox said, unfazed. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Do I _want_ to know what for?"

"You know perfectly well what for." Nox smiled. "Word of advice: if you want your relationship to stay a secret, don't let official records show that you've gotten married. People can look at that. People like me."

A'tro looked torn between incredulity and wanting to murder Nox where she stood. "You looked at the records? Are you stalking me?"

"I keep tabs on all the Council members. It's how I keep ahead in our little political game."

"If you try anything—" A'tro started.

Nox held up her hands in a placating gesture. "No need to threaten me. I know quite well what you're capable of."

"I am not threatening you, Nox. I am warning you not to do anything with this information that you will regret."

"That's the same thing as a threat, isn't it? But that's beside the point," Nox added hastily, sensing A'tro was in no mood to debate semantics. "I promise, I won't lay so much as a finger on your precious officer." _As much as I would like to, and not for killing, either. Lucky woman, A'tro._

"See that you don't," A'tro said grimly, and left it at that.

Nox decided a change of subject was in order. "So, who do you think killed Vowrawn?"

The frown that had started to abate from A'tro's face swiftly returned. "I'm not sure."

"The prevailing theory seems to be the Republic, but I'm not certain I buy that," Nox said thoughtfully. "I've seen what the Jedi Shadows can do, but getting in and out of Dromund Kaas without anyone noticing is no easy feat. Not without inside help, anyway."

"Are you suggesting there's a traitor in our midst?"

"There are always traitors in everyone's midst. That's how war works." Nox came to a halt in front of the turbolift to the docking tube. "The question is, who are they? And how highly placed?"

"I've been deceived by a Jedi spy before," A'tro murmured. "They hide themselves well."

"They do," Nox agreed. "Now that Intelligence is under my control, I intend to investigate as best as I can."

"Good."

The turbolift arrived. Nox stepped into it and turned around to face A'tro. "Until next time, Wrath."

A'tro inclined her head silently.

The turbolift doors closed, and the lift moved quickly upward. Nox exited a few moments later and made her way down the length of the airlock. A hulking alien figure waited in front of the hatch of her ship, bowing respectfully as she approached.

"Afternoon, Khem," Nox said cheerily. "Anyone come by?"

[There were no assassins today, my mistress,] Khem Val answered. [There was a small droid, however. It left this.] He held out one massive clawed hand, revealing a holocommunicator.

Nox eyed it warily. The Force held no whisper of danger, so she took it from Khem and examined it. "Looks like someone wants to talk to me."

[So it would appear.]

"I don't suppose you managed to apprehend the droid that delivered it?"

[It dropped the device and escaped before I could catch it.] Khem sounded embarrassed.

Nox had sudden visions of the Dashade running in circles after a mouse droid, and had to suppress a giggle. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll take a look at this once we're on our way."

She boarded the ship, Khem following close behind, and had them away from the orbital station and in hyperspace heading for Dromund Kaas a few minutes later. With navigation settled and nothing to do but wait, Nox left the bridge and went into the ship's main room. There, she took out the holocommunicator and activated it. Khem Val watched from a few meters away.

A minute passed, and another, and then the holocommunicator lit up. No image appeared, but a voice spoke, so distorted by audio filters and scramblers that it sounded like a droid with a faulty vocoder.

"Darth Nox," the voice said. "I was hoping I would get your attention."

Nox maintained her usual half-smile. She couldn't see the speaker, but they could probably see her. "Many people want my attention. What makes you any different from the rest?"

"I have information."

"And here I thought you were calling to invite me to tea."

"This information is of vital importance to the fate of the Empire."

Nox pretended to yawn. "Is that all? I get messages like this every day."

"I know who killed Darth Vowrawn."

Nox was careful not to react, but she was instantly intrigued. Vowrawn's death was far too recent for most people to know about it. This just might be real. "Do tell," she said.

"I can't disclose the information over holo," the voice said. "Someone could be listening in."

"What desolate but private location are you proposing for a meeting, then?" Nox drawled. "I assume that's where you're going with this."

"The details will be delivered to you on Dromund Kaas."

"Excellent." Nox chuckled. "It's like a spy holo. How very amusing."

"I implore you to take this seriously, my lord," the voice said. "There is one more thing."

"If you're going to tell me to wear something sexy to the meeting, this whole thing is off," Nox warned.

"I don't—what? Never mind." Even as modulated as it was, the voice managed to sound confused. "If you do choose to meet with me, you cannot come alone. No one will believe you if you're the only one who knows the truth."

"Sort of like how I don't believe you right now?"

"I know this is suspicious, but I urge you to listen to me. The fate of the Empire—"

"Yes, yes, I got that part." Nox reached forward and switched the holocommunicator off.

Matters had just become exceedingly more complicated.


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

 _Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

The primary operations center appeared at first glance to be the same machine of intense, efficient activity that it had always been. People in uniform—black, rather than the standard gray—typed away at consoles, or watched monitors, or walked about with datapads, occasionally stopping to confer with one another. The soft hum of conversation mixed with the steady whirring of fans keeping the massive banks of computers cool and the deep rumbling of the environmental control systems counteracting Dromund Kaas' oppressive humidity. It was all very neat and precise, a model of Imperial efficiency and the heart of Imperial control.

The activity continued as it always had. The difference was the people.

There were far fewer than there had been three years ago. The sounds of voices giving reports or comparing data were all but drowned out by the mechanical noises. And those talking were quieter, more focused on hunching over their consoles, trying to seem as unobtrusive as they possibly could.

The atmosphere was so subdued that the Chiss woman standing at the head of the room stood out like a lone tree on a flooded plain with her straight, confident posture.

She was just under six feet tall, with powder blue skin and the softly glowing red eyes characteristic of her species. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into an elegant bun. Her face was highly symmetrical and would have been considered aesthetically pleasing by many species were it not for a certain unnerving quality to her features, like those of a doll.

Her black uniform bore no insignia, no indication of rank. She didn't need any.

She was the leader of Sith Intelligence, the Minister in fact if not in name, since the position had been officially dissolved along with the organization. To most, she was known by her codename, Seeker, though a few Intelligence personnel remembered her as Cipher Nine.

She had another title, too: the Hand of Darth Jadus.

It was a useful title, particularly when it came to dealing with the Sith. The evocation of Jadus' name was a reminder of his authority. Even absent, that authority was considerable, made weighty by justified fear. It had kept the Sith from intruding on her operations for two years, now, during which time she had done her best to rebuild Intelligence.

That time had come to an end.

Darth Nox's unconventional origins meant that there was almost no data on her. What little had been collected over the past two years gave no indication as to why she would suddenly show an interest in taking leadership of Intelligence. Clearly, she was not afraid of Jadus, so she was either overly confident, overly ambitious, or both.

The Chiss woman suppressed a sigh. She could only hope that Nox would not be too overbearing; Sith attempts at micromanagement had ruined more operations than she could count.

She had been trained as a covert operative, not a leader of people, and she had never wanted anywhere near the level of responsibility she currently held. But even though Intelligence had used her, betrayed her, and dumped their smoking ruins into her lap, she would never have dreamed of cutting loose. However she felt about it, this was her duty, and she would do it to the best of her abilities.

They called her Seeker, called her Hand of Jadus, but in her own mind, she wasn't any of those things. In her own mind, she was still an individual with her own core name: Thaera. Even after years of spy work, she still hadn't lost herself. That meant something.

If she hadn't been standing facing the door, she would never have noticed Darth Nox walk in. She cut a distinctive figure in her white dress, but she didn't possess the same aura of mental _weight_ that followed some of the more powerful Sith. She stood on her own, with no Force tricks to bend the wills of those around her.

Nox paused near the entrance, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on Thaera, and she started towards her. As she moved across the room, everyone finally took notice of her, and silence fell.

"So, you're the one they call Seeker," Nox said as soon as she was close enough to address her without speaking overly loudly. "An interesting title."

Thaera gave a polite bow. "I prefer to take an active role in operations, my lord. The designation seemed fitting."

"So it is. I've kept my eye on this place for some time, now. You've done very well given what little you have to work with."

Nox was the image of politeness. Thaera wasn't sure what to make of it. "Thank you, my lord," she said cautiously. "I've done my best to ensure Intelligence serves the Empire as well as it always has."

"Indeed," Nox murmured. Her manner abruptly turned businesslike. "Now that I'm in charge, I will give you access to as many resources as I can. Credits, personnel, materiel; whatever you need, just ask."

Thaera had not been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this. "That's…very generous."

Nox smiled pleasantly. "I do what I can. Unlike my colleagues, I do not underestimate Intelligence's importance to the Empire's basic functioning, both in war and domestic matters."

Thaera was quickly starting to realize that Nox's reputation for mysterious and eccentric behavior was not unfounded.

"I am a very busy woman, Seeker," Nox said matter-of-factly. "I have little time to oversee affairs here. As such, your current role and responsibilities will not change. You will report to me, and I may occasionally take an interest in specific operations, but for the most part you will have autonomous authority over the workings of this organization. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my lord." Thaera understood what Nox meant—she was essentially giving Intelligence a free pass to do whatever they saw fit, while her overall control would keep other Sith at bay.

What she didn't understand was why. The opportunity to personally command Sith Intelligence was an opportunity for immense power. Why would Nox pass that up?

"There is something I would like for you to do for me now, however," Nox said. She held out a hand, revealing that she was holding what looked like a small holocommunicator. "Someone used this to anonymously contact me. Have your people run a full analysis and see if you can determine the source."

Thaera took the device. "I will see to it immediately."

"Excellent. Now, there is one last thing I wish to make clear." Nox stepped forward, stopping less than half a meter away, and met her gaze squarely. Unlike most humans, she seemed to have no difficulty knowing where Thaera was looking. "I leave you in command because you have proven that you are capable of doing your job well, and there is currently no one who could effectively replace you."

All traces of quiet amusement had vanished from Nox's face as she spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "Do not think I am unaware of how you abetted Darth Jadus in his scheme that resulted in the deaths of countless Imperial citizens. The rest of the Dark Council may have turned a blind eye to his megalomania, but I will not. Your master may be out of my reach, but you… The moment you cease to be useful to me, I will see to it that justice is carried out, as it should have been years ago."

Thaera looked into her eyes, the same cold gray as Csilla's perpetual winter sky, and saw death waiting there. She accepted this knowledge calmly, without fear, and said, "I understand, my lord."

Nox's charming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared. "Excellent. That will be all, Seeker. As you were." She inclined her head, turned on her heel, and left.

Thaera watched her leave, turning the holocommunicator over in her hand, and decided that as of that moment, collecting more data on Nox would be her highest priority.


	18. Chapter 18

**Eighteen**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

A'tro paced her apartment, an overwhelming sense of foreboding weighing down on her. Something was wrong. She could feel it.

This wasn't the feeling she got when she was in personal danger. This was different. Larger. More nebulous. It made her tense, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Meditating didn't quell her unease, nor did practicing lightsaber forms. She almost felt as if she needed to go out and kill someone, preferably with her bare hands, but that was feral instinct talking. The Sith blood in her veins didn't make her some Massassi savage; she was above those urges.

Talking to Quinn almost always made her feel better, even if she couldn't tell him about Sith matters, but he was on the front lines, and she was alone. She would have been out there fighting alongside him, but she had received direct orders from the Emperor's Hand telling her to stay in the capital.

 _Be on your guard, Wrath. The Emperor's enemies are close._

The Hand was not one to offer explanations even if A'tro presumed to ask for them. She could not deny, however, that it was frustrating being forced to sit around and wait for orders.

 _They will strike soon. Make ready and await further instruction._

Well, she was as ready as she could be. She was in peak physical condition, and she could say with pride that she was one of the most skilled lightsaber masters in the entire galaxy. Now that she had embraced her feelings for Quinn, her mind was free of conflict, making her already formidable will even stronger.

At least, that was what she told herself. Deep down, a sliver of doubt still lingered. The longer she waited for the Emperor's word, the more that sliver worked itself into her mind.

* * *

Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed as one of Dromund Kaas' mighty storms sent rain beating relentlessly against the glass wall of Darth Nox's elegantly appointed apartment. The lady herself sat curled up on a sofa with a datapad in one hand and a glass of fine Alderaanian wine in the other and wondered if perhaps she had been a little too harsh with Seeker.

The Chiss was a war criminal, no doubt about it, and if Nox had her way, she would answer for the Imperial blood she had shed, Hand of Jadus or not. It was past time the Dark Council started holding their fellow Sith accountable for their actions.

Still, it might have been better to handle the situation with a little more subtlety. Outright threatening someone who had just become her subordinate? Nox had no objection to being feared, but one got far better results through minions who yearned to please rather than minions frightened of one's wrath. A terrified servant was a motivated servant, but rarely an effective one.

Well, it was too late now. Seeker hadn't seemed particularly bothered by the threat, anyway.

She took a sip of her wine. A lovely vintage, aged ten years, with a rich red hue several shades darker than human blood. Exquisite.

"To Imperial Intelligence," she said aloud, raising her glass to the empty room, then took another sip before turning her attention to her datapad.

The Sith who were part of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge gave regular reports on interesting relics and where they might be found. Nox skimmed through, looking for anything that seemed useful. Most of the information was rubbish, based entirely on rumor and apocrypha. Sith were motivated to please her, but they had nothing on the Reclamation Service when it came to proper research.

Perhaps she should have Talos give a workshop. She chuckled to herself at the thought of the enthusiastic archaeologist lecturing a room full of flighty Sith academics.

The next report was pure folklore, the one after that was a rumor deliberately planted by the Empire, then something called the Chaos Catalyst…that name was absurd enough that it might actually be real. She'd have to look into that one.

Another report described a series of phenomena experienced by a survey team out in the deep jungle that strongly suggested the presence of a Force ghost. Nox saved that one for future reference. More power was always nice.

She continued looking through the reports, but found herself unable to focus. Setting the datapad aside with a small sigh, she turned her glass between her hands, watching the dark wine swirl within.

It wasn't that visiting Intelligence HQ had rattled her—nothing rattled her. But it had come closer to doing so than most things. Seeker was clearly very canny, not the brainwashed lackey Nox had expected given her connection to Jadus. She might just be clever enough to look in the secret places where certain truths lay buried.

That would not do.

She was considering her options when the security system chimed to indicate someone was requesting access to her chambers. After carefully placing her glass of wine on a table off to one side—if it was an assassin, she wouldn't want it to spill while she annihilated them—she strolled over to the security monitors and checked the footage of the hallway outside.

To her surprised, Darth A'tro was standing outside her door, holding a small box in one hand and frowning. Disguising oneself as the Emperor's Wrath seemed a little too stupid even by the standards of the assassins Ravage tended to send at her, so Nox reasoned this was probably legitimate and let her in.

"My dear Wrath!" she exclaimed, trotting into the antechamber to meet A'tro as she stepped inside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She raised a suggestive eyebrow. "It's a little late for a casual visit."

A'tro rolled her eyes. "You insist I'm not your type, and then you keep flirting with me."

" _I_ am flirting with _you?_ " Nox put a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. "You're the one coming to my chambers at nearly midnight. And you've brought me a present, too."

"I wha—" A'tro looked at the box in her hand as if suddenly realizing it was there. "Oh. This was sitting outside your door when I got here."

"And you picked it up? It could have been a bomb!"

"I didn't sense any danger." A'tro held out the box. "Here."

Nox gingerly took the box and opened it. It was empty save for a small slip of flimsiplast. "How peculiar. People usually use the HoloNet to send me declarations of their undying love." She picked up the flimsi and examined it.

A'tro snickered. "Does that happen often?"

"Declarations of love? Not so much. Offers to present me with improbable numbers of Republic corpses if I'd just show them what's under the dress? All the time."

The flimsi was inscribed with a single word, _Tatooine_ , followed by a set of coordinates. The meeting location the mysterious caller had mentioned, no doubt.

"That seems rather disrespectful, given your rank," A'tro said.

Nox looked up to see her frowning. She smirked in response. "Well, if my beauty and charm drive people so mad with desire that they forget propriety, I find that rather amusing."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised that's your take on it." A'tro nodded at the flimsi in Nox's hand. "So, what is it?"

"Something else entirely." Nox committed the coordinates to memory, then crumpled up the flimsi, tossed it into the air, and incinerated it with a small bolt of lightning.

A'tro fanned away a few ashes that floated in her direction. "Let me guess: secret business you won't talk about."

Nox was about to reply in the affirmative, then hesitated. The first message had said not to come alone… "I'll make an exception this time," she said. "Shall we go sit down? It's so terribly awkward standing here."

A'tro followed her into her sitting room, taking a seat on a chair near the sofa. Nox retrieved her glass of wine and offered one to her visitor, who predictably but politely refused. She settled herself back on the sofa and described her conversation with the unknown caller.

"This is a trap," A'tro said as soon as Nox finished talking.

"I'm inclined to agree."

"It's strange that they would know about Vowrawn's death so soon after it happened. Most of the Empire still doesn't know."

Nox nodded. "That's why I think this might actually be real."

"You really think this person actually wants to give you vital information? More likely they're the one who killed Vowrawn, and are trying to lure you out to kill you as well."

Nox was silent for several moments, tapping her fingers against her glass. "That's possible," she agreed. "It's a chance I'm willing to take, however."

A'tro stared at her, golden eyes wide and incredulous. "You aren't seriously going to—have you gone mad?"

Nox smiled into her wine. "I prefer the term 'differently rational.'"

"Don't get cute," A'tro snapped. "Do you have any idea how difficult it would be to replace you on the Council?"

"Perhaps you could relay that information to Ravage. He keeps trying to assassinate me."

"Don't try to change the subject. This so-called 'meeting' is clearly a trap. I cannot believe you're going to just walk right into it."

"What are you going to do, try to stop me?"

"You know I could if I wanted to."

"Well, if you're not going to, then clearly you don't want to." Nox paused. "Why did you come over here in the first place?"

"You're trying to change the subject again."

"Yes, but I'm curious. And we've pretty much exhausted our previous topic anyway."

"I had a few questions about Intelligence, but they can wait until I've talked you out of this foolishness."

Nox frowned. "You're not going to talk me out of it. May as well ask your questions."

A'tro sighed, defeated. "Fine. I recall you mentioning a while ago that you wanted to incorporate more Sith into Sith Intelligence, train apprentices as operatives. Are you still planning on doing that?"

"Absolutely." Nox smiled. "Sith power and Intelligence training…a deadly combination."

"If that's the case, I believe I may have a candidate for you."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "Surely you're not thinking of turning the Willsaam girl into your own personal agent."

"Jaesa doesn't have the disposition for that sort of thing," A'tro said dismissively. "No, the Sith in question is currently apprenticed to an old friend of mine."

Nox took a long sip from her glass. "I'm listening."

* * *

After A'tro left, Nox turned off the lights and sat in the darkness, thinking. Outside, the storm continued, occasionally illuminating the room with arcs of lightning.

Despite A'tro's misgivings, Nox was convinced that the meeting invitation was not a trap. Whether it was instinct, the Force, or some combination of both, she felt certain that she needed to pursue this. Even if it was a trap after all, she was powerful enough to survive almost anything, and it would be worth a little trouble if she was able to learn something from it.

The problem was the caveat the anonymous caller had presented: _you cannot come alone_. Nox suspected that if she were to appear on her own, the person would not even show. She had wanted to bring A'tro, as the two of them had a sort of alliance going, but that was apparently not an option.

 _No one will believe you if you're the only one who knows the truth._

Whatever this person wanted to tell her, it was something they thought she would need to share. It was also something that was apparently so unlikely they thought she needed someone else to verify it, someone who wouldn't have a reason to lie. That meant any of her crew were out of the question, as was anyone else who served her directly. For a moment, she contemplated asking Seeker, but she didn't want to have anything more to do with her than she had to. Besides, no one would ever believe the word of a spymaster.

Given that she had no idea what the information was, she couldn't take the chance that it would be safe to keep it secret. If the Empire truly was at risk…

An idea occurred to her then, so ludicrous that she laughed aloud. But if her allies were out of the question, then the next logical step was to approach someone who wasn't an ally. Someone who she could not possibly have coerced into lying on her behalf.

There was no way she would convince him to go along with it. Or was there?

Nox liked challenges.


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

After some deliberation, Nox decided to take the direct approach. Sneaking around might give the wrong impression. So she made her way to a particular corner of the Citadel where she had never expected to go—at least, not in broad daylight without the intent to kill.

She was nearly to her destination when she heard voices coming from around the nearest corner. Instinct took over, and she flattened herself against the wall, hiding her presence in the Force, before taking a quick look.

Darth Ravage was walking down the corridor, accompanied by a human woman in the red uniform of the Imperial Diplomatic Service. Nox didn't recognize her, but that wasn't surprising. She had never had much to do with that particular organization.

"I don't care what you have to do," Ravage was saying. "Make the governor agree, and make it happen soon. We need that system intact."

"Of course. I won't fail you, my lord."

"You haven't yet, which is more than can be said for your superior. That will be all."

A moment later, the diplomat rounded the corner. She saw Nox and bowed silently, then continued down the corridor at a markedly faster pace.

Nox chuckled inwardly, then made her way around the corner herself. Ravage was walking away with his back to her. She crept up behind him, then unmasked her Force presence.

"Diplomacy problems?" she asked lightly.

Ravage turned around and drew his lightsaber so quickly she barely saw him move.

"Ah," Nox said, staring down the length of the scarlet blade that had suddenly appeared at her eye level. "This is awkward."

"Six more inches and I burn a hole straight through that empty head of yours," Ravage said coolly. "I find myself very tempted."

"If you were really going to do it, you would have already," Nox pointed out. _Probably._ "So how about we move past the posturing and have a nice, civil chat?"

Ravage didn't move. "You'll understand if I'm reluctant to trust your motives."

"Of course. But if I were trying to get you to lower your guard so I could kill you, I promise I wouldn't be this obvious about it." Nox smiled.

Ravage's pale blue eyes narrowed. Nox kept smiling.

Enough time passed that she started to wonder if she had miscalculated. Then Ravage slowly lowered his lightsaber to his side, the blade dwindling away with a sharp hiss.

"All right," he said reluctantly. "Talk."

Nox gestured to the lightsaber hilt still in his hand. "Are you going to put that away, or…?"

"I'm staying ready in case I change my mind about killing you."

"Oh, please," Nox scoffed. "As if it would be that easy. Haven't you heard about what happened when Thanaton killed me that one time?"

That might have been stretching the truth a little, but Ravage didn't need to know that. Besides, she _did_ have a rather impressive regiment of ghosts at her disposal. Anything was possible.

"Thanaton was a delusional, self-important fool stuck so firmly in the past it's remarkable he was able to stop fawning over the ancients long enough to make it onto the Council in the first place," Ravage said scathingly. "I'm sure he would have fallen for any number of your tricks."

"And you won't?"

"Unlike most people, I am well-versed in the repertoire of Sith witches." One corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "The key is to get in _close_."

Nox clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "We're getting off topic."

"Ah, yes. You were going to explain what you're doing here." Ravage shook his head. "This will be good."

Nox pointedly looked around the hallway. "This is a rather public location."

"Yes, it is."

She sighed. "The information I wanted to discuss is of a sensitive nature."

"How convenient."

"How is that convenient?"

"It gives you an excuse to lure me somewhere secluded so you can try to murder me."

"A minute ago, you seemed rather confident in your ability to take me on."

Ravage shrugged. "I only said you would try."

"Would it be better if you thought of it as somewhere secluded where _you_ could murder _me?_ Not that I'd let you, but if it puts your mind at ease…"

"You'll talk here, or not at all."

Nox put her hands on her hips. "I don't think I care for your tone."

"I don't care for anything about you, Nox, yet here I am. Listening. Not even trying to put you out of my misery." Ravage chuckled to himself. "And to think, Marr calls me unreasonable."

"It's not as if I'm suggesting we go to some hidden cave out in the jungle," Nox grumbled. "Your chambers are right down the hall."

Ravage only looked at her.

"Fine, fine," Nox sighed. "Someone sent me an anonymous message asking me to meet with them on Tatooine so they can give me information vital to the fate of the Empire, but I have to bring someone with me to verify that I'm not lying about the information when I presumably share it with the Council."

 _That sounded less dubious in my head._

Ravage looked as though he were trying very hard not to laugh. "I have to admit," he said with clear amusement, "Of all the absurdities I've come to expect from you, this is really something else. You expect me to believe any of that?"

"Not really, no. But it's the truth."

"I'm sure." Ravage finally put his lightsaber back on his belt and crossed his arms. "So. Let me get this straight."

Nox tried to look innocent. It was difficult.

" _If_ any of this is actually true, and _if_ I were to believe even a fraction of it…" Calm, confident smugness crept across his face, lighting up his eyes and culminating in a grim, but very satisfied smirk. "It seems that you, Darth Nox, are asking for my help."

"I wouldn't put it that way," she pouted. Inwardly, she exulted. He had taken the bait.

"Oh, but I would," Ravage murmured. "How desperate you must be that you would approach me, of all people. This must be more important than you're letting on."

Nox decided to match his smirk with one of her own. "Does this mean you're agreeing?"

"I haven't agreed to anything yet. We have to discuss terms."

She had expected as much. "What terms might those be?"

"Let's just say that you will owe me, and at some point in the future, I will collect. I prefer to keep my options open."

"Done," Nox said immediately. Whatever he decided he wanted, she could probably talk her way out of it if it compromised her power in any way.

Ravage's smug smirk faded to a pleased smile. "Excellent."

"You'll come with me to Tatooine, then," she said. She wasn't worried about him backing out of the deal; Ravage kept his word when it suited him, and this time, it definitely suited him.

"That seems a more than fair price to pay."

Nox was finding Ravage in a good mood to be more and more unsettling with each passing moment. "We should discuss logistics, then. Two members of the Dark Council traveling together will be highly suspicious…"


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

Fury- _class starship_ Fata Morgana

 _14 ATC_

It occurred to Nox that she had left the holocommunicator with Intelligence for analysis and then never gone and picked it up. Well, it was too late for that now; she had already taken her ship out of Dromund Kaas' gravity well and made the jump to hyperspace towards Tatooine.

It had taken considerable wheedling and cajoling to convince Ravage that making the trip on her ship would be the least conspicuous option, and when he'd finally agreed, she hadn't wanted to waste any time in case he changed his mind. That, and persuading him to go along with the whole thing in the first place, had required so much effort that it was little wonder she'd forgotten about Intelligence.

A small part of her was worried. She hadn't had time to sneak into the Intelligence archives and delete the evidence. She could only hope that Seeker would not think to look.

That matter would have to wait until she returned. With the _Fata Morgana_ in hyperspace, there was nothing more for her to do on the bridge. She made her way out into the ship's main area to check on her guest.

Ravage had settled himself in the middle of the floor near the holoterminal, kneeling in a meditative posture. His eyes were closed, though Nox suspected that only made him more aware of where she was and what she was doing. The Force was more discerning than any physical sense.

She strolled over and draped herself in the nearest chair. Dromund Kaas to Tatooine was not a short trip, and if he thought he could go the entire time without having to talk to her, he was very much mistaken.

"Ravage," she said, trying not to sound too delighted at the prospect of having him at her conversational mercy.

He didn't open his eyes, but the frown lines etched across his face immediately deepened. "What."

"I'm curious," Nox said contemplatively.

"Wonderful," Ravage sighed.

"No, really, I am. Why Ravage? I don't see many Sith out there who just append Basic words to their Darth title."

Another sigh, much more irritated than the last. "I didn't pick it."

"Well, I didn't pick my name either, but fortunately Marr seems to have good taste." There was more to it than that, of course; she had felt Marr reach out into the Force, asking, and the dark side had given him an answer.

Darth Nox was more than just a name. It was who she _was_.

"So," she said after a moment, "Why Ravage?"

He opened his eyes and glared at her. "Why do you think?"

"Well," Nox said thoughtfully, "It seems to me that someone wanted you to be feared, to be seen as someone with a great capacity for destruction—which you are, so good on them. It's just so terribly unsubtle."

"Yes," Ravage remarked blandly. "It is."

"I can't help but think that had to be deliberate."

"It was."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"A very final answer. I see."

Ravage continued to glare in her direction. "Is there a point to this, or are you simply trying to annoy me?"

"It's a long flight. I'm trying to keep myself entertained."

"And your idea of entertainment is pestering me. Somehow, I'm not surprised."

"Would you rather sit there and brood the entire time?"

Ravage snickered. "I don't brood, Nox."

"What were you doing when I came over here, then?"

"I was meditating. Scanning for threats."

"Looked an awful lot like brooding to me," Nox said dubiously.

Ravage smiled faintly. "Brooding is for young men who don't have the strength to do what's necessary. I lost my capacity for self-pity long ago."

"I see," Nox said, although she wasn't sure she did. "Is this leading into a discussion of body count?"

"Hardly. It's about quality over quantity. Even you must realize that."

"I realize a great deal more than you know."

"Yes, that reminds me," Ravage mused. "Since it seems we have nothing to do but ask each other unwanted personal questions, perhaps I ought to address the veil of mystery surrounding you."

"I'm not sure I'd consider asking about your name a personal question, unwanted or otherwise."

He ignored her. "At first glance, you appear to be simply yet another example of clawing your way from humble origins to the top of the pecking order. A slave who became Sith who became a very important Sith."

"That's me," Nox said cheerfully. "Making up for my misspent youth, one Council meeting at a time."

"I don't believe you."

Nox gave him a puzzled look. "What is there to disbelieve? My history is all very well-documented."

"Don't insult my intelligence," Ravage said scornfully. " _My_ history is well-documented. I've spent my entire life in the public eye. You, on the other hand, emerged seemingly from nowhere. There is no record of your existence prior to eight years ago, when you were supposedly first brought to the Empire."

Nox maintained her polite expression even as a chill ran through her. She had been so worried about Seeker figuring things out, it had never even occurred to her that other Sith might have made more than cursory inquiries.

She had to maintain her cool. "You actually went to that much trouble to learn about me?" She fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm flattered."

"Don't think it makes you special. I keep tabs on all the Council. It does make me curious, though."

"That's nice."

"If you're trying to distract me from making my point, you're doing a very poor job."

"Distract you? Why would I be trying to distract you? I'm very intrigued to hear what wild theories you've cooked up." That wasn't even a lie.

Ravage shook his head. "You've clearly been very well-educated, although no one apparently bothered to teach you proper military strategy—"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"—and you know your way around Imperial politics far better than most. Your ability to talk almost anyone into almost anything suggests considerable training in rhetoric and psychology, as well."

"I read a lot," Nox demurred.

"That's a miserable excuse, and you know it."

"How is that miserable? I really do read a lot!"

"Two years of reading is not nearly enough to give someone the skills I know you possess."

"Why, Ravage," Nox said slyly, "I believe you just gave me a compliment."

"I am perfectly capable of acknowledging the strengths of someone I personally dislike," he retorted. "It is not a reflection of my opinion of them in any way."

"And here I thought I was starting to grow on you."

"There is a line between 'liking' and 'tolerable for business purposes,' and you are so far away from it I can't even see you."

"You can't see me? Perhaps you need to get your cybernetics recalibrated."

"That's not what they do. Also, they're specially made to be resistant to electrical discharges." Ravage eyed her meaningfully. "For your future reference."

"Of course they are. I wouldn't expect even you to be _that_ stupid." Nox silently rejoiced; she appeared to have successfully distracted him.

"Why, Nox, I believe you just gave me a compliment."

She laughed. "I only said you were somewhere above the lowest possible bar of stupidity. If you want to take that as a compliment, go right ahead."

Ravage glared at her and said nothing.

"You know," Nox said after thinking for a moment, "There is something I've been wondering about."

"Is it time for the personal questions again? Wonderful."

"You see, there's a Sith who works for me, Siada Ilaes, who's told me some very _interesting_ things about you."

Ravage's mouth twisted as if he'd just tasted something unpleasant. "Siada is a lying, grasping, twisted excuse for a being with more ambition than half the Sith on Dromund Kaas and neither the power nor the brains to back it up. If you voluntarily spent more than a few seconds in her presence, you must be a masochist. I applaud your fortitude and patience."

 _He never does mince words, does he?_ "My, my," Nox said. "I detect the presence of some resentment."

"I'm sure you do," Ravage said darkly. "And I'm sure you're just dying to regale me with all the sordid notions she put into your head, so get on with it."

"Actually, I'm more interested in why, if you hate Siada so much, you took her son as one of your apprentices."

Ravage's expression turned grim. "Ah. It's _this_ discussion."

"It seems very noble of you to put aside your personal feelings and give the young man the opportunity."

"I made him work for it."

"Of course you did," Nox murmured. "I've seen Tevreth around the Citadel. He has such an air of determination." She let her smile turn sultry. "I admire that in a man."

Ravage waved a hand. "If you're hinting at what I think you're hinting at, by all means, don't let me stop you. It would probably do him some good."

Nox arched an eyebrow with calculated skepticism. "It won't bother you if I sleep with your son?"

Ravage twitched almost imperceptibly. "Why should it?"

"Aren't I the enemy?"

"Tevreth is smart enough not to be too taken in by your wiles. And he could use some motivation." Ravage frowned in disappointment. "He's twenty-five. I was already a Lord at that age. I suspect he's a lost cause."

Nox contemplated not saying the next thought that came into her mind, then went ahead anyway. "If this is what your relationship with your father was like, that explains a great deal about your disposition."

To her surprise, Ravage was silent for a long moment.

"Sith and families are not a good combination, despite all our emphasis on pure blood," he said finally.

"That's news to absolutely no one."

"You're not from a Sith family. You wouldn't get it."

"I mean, I technically _am_ , being descended from Aloysius Kallig and all," Nox pointed out.

"Are you really? I always thought you made that up to give yourself legitimacy."

"I did not! I have Kallig's own lightsaber right here." She patted the double-bladed hilt where it rested on her belt.

"You could have stolen that."

"Doubtful," Nox said wryly, remembering the trouble she'd gone to in order to retrieve the lightsaber. "But if you still don't believe me, when we get back to Dromund Kaas, we can take a trip to the Dark Temple and I'll introduce you to dear Aloysius. He's very chatty for a Force ghost."

"So there _are_ Force ghosts out in the jungle," Ravage said, clearly intrigued.

"Well…there aren't as many as there used to be. But yes." Nox checked the box in the back of her mind where she kept her spectral power sources. They were all still there, still very unhappy, and still inexorably bound to her forever.

Delightful.

"I remember your little display when you fought Thanaton," Ravage said. "Those were actual ghosts?"

"Oh, yes. Not all of them from Dromund Kaas—I went on a bit of a collecting spree." There was no point in being deceptive. Forcewalking was such a rare and obscure ability that it didn't matter what she told him, anyway.

"So if I were to stab you right now, would you die?" Ravage asked curiously.

Nox frowned. "If I said no, would you do it?"

"Not when you were expecting it, no."

"How very dishonorable."

"I've never made any pretense of being otherwise."

"Right, you're Darth 'Murder has no rules.' How silly of me to forget."

Ravage sighed heavily. "I just had this argument with Mortis last week. Do we have to go over it again?"

"No, not at all," Nox assured him. "I've heard all your points many times." In fact, she tended to agree, but she'd never admit that to his face.

"Good."

"So, what did you think of Rictus' latest proposal?" Council gossip would be a safe topic for the next few hours.

"Fifteen years on the Council, and that was one of the most absurd things I've ever heard. Does he really think that…"

Nox settled herself into her chair and decided to time how long it would take, uninterrupted, for Ravage to stop ranting.


	21. Chapter 21

**Twenty-One**

 _The Dune Sea, Tatooine_

 _14 ATC_

Getting out of Mos Ila without being spotted had proven far easier than Nox had expected. The hangar in which she'd landed the _Fata Morgana_ had an exit leading directly out into the desert that was not a part of the standard Imperial spaceport blueprints. It was probably there for use by smugglers, but that was not Nox's problem.

She'd acquired a two-person speeder that had been sitting fueled and ready near the exit—probably also for use by smugglers—had a brief argument with Ravage over who would drive, and then taken the two of them out across the sand towards the coordinates she had been provided.

"This is a trap, you know," Ravage said for the fifth time.

"I know," Nox replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. The twin suns were at their apex, turning the Dune Sea into an expanse of glittering diamonds.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," Ravage muttered.

"I'm sure you can't." Nox frowned; was that dark speck their destination?

She peered at it, ignoring Ravage's grumbling, and continued forward. As they approached, the speck resolved into a humanoid figure standing near a small sandstone structure that had initially blended in with the rest of the landscape.

"Looks like we're about to meet our mysterious contact," Nox said.

" _Your_ contact. I'm only here to watch in case you die."

"You're so sweet," she murmured absently, stopping the speeder about a hundred meters back and hopping out.

Ravage moved up beside her, his disgruntled demeanor replaced by wariness. "I don't like this," he said softly.

Nox eyed the figure, which had made no move to approach them. From this distance, they appeared to be dressed in black Sith robes. "I don't like it either. But we've come this far."

She set off confidently, her boots crunching in the sand. Ravage muttered something she didn't catch and followed a few steps to her right, just out of lightsaber range.

A moment later, and Nox could see clearly that the figure was indeed wearing Sith armor, their face concealed by a hooded cloak. As she and Ravage drew nearer, the stranger removed their hood, revealing a human male who looked to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, with short dark hair and the yellow eyes of one who had tapped into the dark side.

"Darth Nox," he said, bowing deeply. "I'm glad you chose to heed my message." He turned slightly and bowed again. "Darth Ravage. Not who I would have expected, but…I'm honored."

"I'm sure you are," Ravage said in a tone that could have meant anything.

"Well, you obviously know who we are," Nox said. "How about returning the favor?"

"Of course," the Sith said. He sounded nervous. "I won't ask you to come inside—I'm sure you suspect an ambush. I know this must all seem very suspicious, but it was the only way."

Ravage crossed his arms in a manner that conveniently let his right hand drift close to his lightsaber. "So far you've done nothing but waste my time."

Nox glided a few steps closer, putting on her most pleasant smile. "Ignore him. I'm the one you wanted to speak with. Take as much time as you need."

The Sith's eyes flickered between his two visitors several times. "I'm Lord Necrosion," he said. "I've been in hiding here since the death of my father, Darth Baras."

Of all the things Nox had been expecting, that revelation had not been among them.

She raised an eyebrow. "You're Baras' son. Really."

"I hate to say it," Ravage said grudgingly, "But I believe him. The resemblance is unmistakable."

Nox looked at him askance.

"Don't give me that," he snapped. "I knew Baras very well. He didn't start the whole 'masked and mysterious' routine until later in his life."

"Well, in that case," Nox murmured, "It's a good thing I didn't bring the Wrath, isn't it?"

Ravage turned back to Necrosion. "So. Baras' megalomania finally did him in, and you've been cowering here in the sand like a womp rat ever since. Are we supposed to be impressed?"

Necrosion squared his shoulders. "I fled the Empire because the information I hold is more important than honor or dignity. Mock me as you like, my lord. I ask only that you hear me out."

Nox cut in quickly before Ravage could start on about how honor was a lie. "Baras has been dead for two years. Why now, and why me?"

"I had to wait until the time was right," Necrosion said. "Of all the Dark Council, you seem the most open to information that goes against the Imperial status quo."

"I'm flattered," Nox murmured.

Ravage made a small sound that might have been a snicker.

"You see, my lord," Necrosion continued, "I know why my father—why Darth Baras—really died."

"And here I thought it was because he committed high treason," Ravage said dryly.

"He was set up," Necrosion insisted. "The Emperor had his Wrath execute Baras to silence him."

"Hold on a minute," Nox interjected. "This was all a bit before my time, but I thought Baras went around telling everyone he was the Voice of the Emperor."

"No one on the Council actually believed any of that nonsense," Ravage said derisively. "A few supported him because it was convenient to their own interests, and he blackmailed a few others. It wasn't enough, in the end."

"What about you?" Nox asked curiously.

Ravage shrugged. "I went along with it for a while. When it became clear that the competent Sith I knew had been replaced by a paranoid lunatic, I ended my support. If the Wrath hadn't come along, we would have removed him sooner or later."

"'We'? Are you telling me the Council actually _agreed_ on something?"

"It's been known to happen."

Nox eyed him. "Marr browbeat you all into submission, didn't he?"

"As if I would ever let—"

Necrosion cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes," Nox said quickly. "You were saying? Something about a grand conspiracy?"

"Baras was a master of information," Necrosion said. "He had spies all across the galaxy. He was even able to learn some of the Emperor's secrets, secrets the Emperor does not wish for anyone to know."

"I assume, then, that you asked me to meet you because you have those secrets now?" Nox inquired.

Necrosion nodded. "I do, my lord."

"Why hasn't the Emperor had you killed, then?" Ravage demanded.

"I'm sure his assassins will find me sooner or later," Necrosion said grimly. "As long as this knowledge is passed on to the right people, my death will not be in vain."

Ravage shook his head. "I don't believe it. Baras would never entrust sensitive information to a pathetic weakling like you."

Necrosion drew himself up. "I may not be as strong in the Force as some, but I'm still capable of doing what needs to be done!"

"I'm sure you tell yourself that so you can sleep at night." Ravage gave him a contemptuous look. "Baras and I were allies for a long time, and he never so much as breathed a word about you. How disappointed he must have been."

"I did everything he ever asked of me!" Necrosion said hotly.

"And it was never enough, was it? No, you were so utterly insufficient that even now, you're still trying to prove yourself to his memory." Ravage sneered. " _Pathetic_."

Nox sighed. "Ravage, if you could be a dear and refrain from insulting my contact until _after_ he's given me the intel, that would be lovely."

"It's not an insult if it's true," Ravage said, his eyes fixed on Necrosion. "You should thank the Wrath. Now no one has to know you didn't have the guts to kill your father yourself."

Nox rolled her eyes. "May we return to the point of this conversation, please?"

Ravage half-smiled. "By all means. I think I've made my point."

"This is not about me," Necrosion said. His voice was calm, but his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. "The Emperor is planning something, and it is not in the Empire's best interests."

"I do hope you didn't bring me all the way out here to tell me something that vague," Nox said.

"No, that's just the beginning. Baras learned the truth. He—" Necrosion stopped short, looking at a point somewhere behind Nox.

She turned. Three vehicles had crested the nearest dune and were rapidly bearing down on them.

"Well, this just got interesting," she remarked.

"Republic assault craft," Ravage said. "All the way out here, that can't be a coincidence."

"Two Dark Council members in one place is far too good an opportunity to waste." Nox pursed her lips. "This is your fault, by the way."

" _My_ fault?" Ravage repeated incredulously. "How is this my fault?"

"You made me tell you about this in an open hallway where anyone could have eavesdropped," Nox sighed. "This is what you get for not listening to me."

"They'll be on us in moments!" Necrosion exclaimed.

"Good," Ravage retorted. "I could use a diversion right about now."

"Let me guess," Nox drawled. "You're going to pretend they're all me, aren't you?"

The three Republic vehicles pulled up a short distance away. Troops in armor painted to blend in with the sand started pouring out.

"Every last one," Ravage said, and drew his lightsaber.

"Ooh, look there," Nox said as a brown-cloaked figure dropped out of one vehicle and activated a shining blue blade. "This will be fun."

"Just one Jedi?" Ravage frowned. "That's no fun at all."

Three more robed figures joined the first.

Ravage's frown vanished. "I take it back."


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-Two**

 _The Dune Sea, Tatooine_

 _14 ATC_

The Republic troops fanned out to surround the Sith, the four Jedi advancing in a lopsided triangle formation. Nox cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders, calling up her vast reserves of energy. This was going to take some firepower.

"Do you suppose," Ravage murmured as the enemy drew closer, "They'll ask us to surrender?"

Nox shrugged. "Probably." She looked at the lead Jedi. "Is this the part where you ask us to surrender?" she called.

"I won't waste my breath," the Jedi declared in an Imperial accented voice that sounded oddly familiar.

"My, my, a Jedi with fire," Nox said. "How refreshing—and unusual. Are you sure you're on the right side?"

The Jedi pulled back her hood.

She was a Sith Pureblood, with black hair tied loosely back and bright golden eyes set in a very familiar copper-skinned face. Add a scar across her right eye and change the color of her hair to rust red, and Nox would have been looking at Darth A'tro.

If she hadn't dug up the classified reports from Telos, she might have even been taken aback.

"I know my allegiance better than you, I suspect," said K'saria Dhakar. "And I know better than to ask either of you to surrender. You're both too deep in the darkness to be redeemed now."

Nox laid a hand over her bosom. "Such flattery. I'm almost overcome."

"I remember you," Ravage said, sounding almost eager.

"And I remember you, Darth Ravage," K'saria said grimly. "I will bring you to justice for the murder of Setia Aru."

"Ah, so that was her name," Ravage mused. "She wasn't doing much talking while I crushed her neck. Most Sith will use the Force, you know, but I prefer to do these things by hand. So much more personal."

Nox was impressed in spite of herself.

"Am I supposed to be _surprised_ that you're a sick monster?" K'saria demanded.

"And when that was finished," Ravage continued blithely, ignoring her, "Elaedrin Myn fell to her knees and begged me to show her the power of the dark side. Only you escaped that day. I will rectify that presently."

"Not if I kill her first," Nox taunted.

Ravage glanced over at her and smiled. "We'll see."

"Enough theatrics!" K'saria shouted. "All attack!"

And then everyone rushed them at once.

Nox didn't bother looking at Ravage, or Necrosion, nor did she even bother to remove her lightsaber from its clip at her side. Instead, she lifted her hands and reached inside herself to the cold, hollow darkness waiting there. She let herself fall through that hollow into the immeasurable shadow that waited between the stars, grasped at it, and made it hers.

The air around her screamed and surged with a sudden charge, and white-violet lightning ripped its way into existence, arcing outward from her fingertips, from the empty air, born of the sunless glacier that rested in the place where most beings had a heart.

Nox was not most beings.

Some of the Republic soldiers screamed as electricity burned its way through armor and flesh and nerves. Others perished before they could even take a breath, the sand fusing with their corpses as it turned to glass around them. One Jedi tried to block the energy with his lightsaber and keep advancing, but the storm was everywhere, it was all around him, and in the end he too was overwhelmed and fell silently with the rest.

In the eye of the storm, time had no meaning. When Nox finally stopped the barrage she had no idea how long it had been. She only knew that everyone in her immediate field of vision was dead.

She took a quick look around. There were far fewer Republic troops left standing than there had been at the start, and those left appeared to be attempting to regroup behind K'saria and another Jedi. Ravage must have gotten the third one.

 _Speaking of Ravage, where did he go?_ Nox wondered.

"We have a problem," Ravage's voice said from behind her.

Nox whirled, preparing more lightning in case he was about to try something. She was greeted by the sight of Ravage standing up and brushing sand off his knees. Necrosion lay facedown at his feet, unmoving.

"What did you do?" Nox accused.

"Nothing," Ravage sighed. "Sniper got him."

"Well, that's damned inconvenient, isn't it?"

"You're the one with range. You should have taken the snipers out first."

Nox put her hands on her hips. "Don't blame this on me, you twit. This wouldn't have happened in the first place if you had just let me talk to you in a secure location."

"I was well within my rights to be suspicious of you," Ravage said coolly. "And there's nothing to be done about it now. Shall we kill the rest of them and be on our way?"

"Why, Ravage," Nox demurred, "I daresay that's the best idea you've had this entire time."

She backed up out of his lightsaber range before turning to face the enemy. The surviving soldiers were making a break for their vehicles, while the two Jedi were charging towards the Sith.

 _How heroic_ , Nox thought, and delved into the darkness again.

K'saria leaped for her, lightsaber raised. Nox sent a bolt of lightning crackling her way. She caught it on her blade and crashed to the ground, rolling with the impact until she was back on her feet, her lightsaber leveled at her side in what Nox was fairly certain was a Makashi opening stance. Lightsaber combat, with its many nuances, was not her strong suit.

Lightning, however, was.

The dark side answered her call as it always did, materializing in the form of blindingly bright bolts that streamed forth from her hands to crash against the barrier of K'saria's blue blade. To the Jedi's credit, she kept advancing, pushing forward against the current one step at a time.

Admirable as it was, such behavior was unacceptable. Nox ramped up the power, stray bolts lancing out around her to fizzle away in the sky or glass small patches of sand. K'saria staggered under the assault, unable to keep moving forward. Nox continued to draw increasing amounts of power—more, more, _more!_ —tapping into the reserves given by her bound ghosts.

A lesser Sith would have been reduced to a burned-out husk by the strength of the energy flowing through her. She sensed her eyes start to glow violet as she forced K'saria to her knees under the weight of her barrage.

Seeing as her target wasn't going anywhere, Nox took a look over to see what Ravage was up to. His Jedi attacker was on the ground, decapitated, and he had a hand stretched out towards the fleeing Republic assault craft. She felt the Force warp violently, and a moment later the vehicle exploded.

"Hey!" Nox exclaimed indignantly. "You _do_ have range, you lying bastard! You can't blame the snipers on me now!"

Ravage turned to face her. "You are _primarily_ a ranged attacker, which makes it your job to deal with other ranged attackers. And I wouldn't kill that Jedi if I were you."

Nox took a quick look at K'saria. She still had a grip on her lightsaber, though her veneer of Jedi calm was starting to fray. "Why not?"

"I'm sure you read those classified reports. This is the Wrath's sister." Ravage walked up next to Nox. "You shouldn't deny the Wrath the satisfaction of killing her herself."

Nox curled her lip. "It's nauseating, the way you suck up to her."

"I respect the Wrath, and so should you."

"I respect her plenty. You just seem like you're ingratiating yourself in the hopes of, how should I put this…" Nox raised an eyebrow. "Tasting the Emperor's favor."

Ravage shook his head. "You have a twisted mind. And this is not up for debate."

Nox thought it over for a moment, then let her lightning fade away. K'saria collapsed forward onto her elbows, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I'll be sure to tell your sister you said hello," Nox said pleasantly.

"This…isn't over," K'saria panted.

"Of course, not dear. Now run along before I change my mind."

K'saria proved herself to be not entirely lacking in sense as she scrambled to her feet and staggered off. At least one of the Republic vehicles looked to still be intact. She'd live to fight another day.

Nox turned to Ravage. "There. Now the Wrath can indulge in all the future fratricide she wants."

"You saw reason. Amazing."

"Let me guess: killing siblings is another one of those weird Sith cultural things I missed out on growing up?"

Ravage shrugged. "Something like that. Shall we go?"

Nox followed him towards the speeder they had arrived in. "So, how many family members have _you_ killed?"

Ravage didn't turn around. "Why would you ask that?"

"I just get the impression there's a number, that's all." Nox climbed into the driver's seat of the speeder and started it up.

Ravage settled himself next to her. "And what if there is? Will it lead you to make wild assumptions about my character?"

"Believe me, I think I know everything about your character that I need to." Nox started to turn the speeder, then stopped. "Do you think we should do something about all the bodies?"

"Why bother? The desert will take care of it soon enough."

"Fair point." Nox put the speeder through a sharp turn and started back towards Mos Ila.


	23. Chapter 23

**Twenty-Three**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

Nox leaned back into the luxurious cushions of her sofa, watching the small, armored woman in front of her closely. A'tro was pacing back and forth, her cape swirling around her with each turn.

"Baras," she said with unconcealed venom. "Two years dead, and he's still causing me problems."

Nox shrugged. "I don't see why this has to be your problem. Just ignore it. I was going to."

"This Necrosion you met with said that Baras learned some of the Emperor's secrets, and knowing him, that's highly plausible." A'tro stopped pacing. "As the Wrath, it's my duty to investigate this further."

"And how are you planning on doing that? Everyone involved is dead."

"Now that I know where to start, that doesn't matter." A'tro turned on her heel and started making her way towards the exit to Nox's chambers. "Come with me. Or don't. I really don't care."

That was an invitation if Nox had ever heard one. She extricated herself from the sofa and followed.

A'tro marched through the Citadel, navigating the maze of corridors with confidence.

"Where are we going?" Nox asked after a while.

A'tro waited for a nearby group of Sith to bow deferentially and pass out of earshot before responding. "Baras' chambers. I had hoped to never lay eyes on that place again, but…"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures?" Nox suggested delicately.

"Not desperation. Necessity."

"Ah. Of course."

Several minutes later, they reached their destination: a door on one of the lower levels of the Citadel. Nox watched with interest as A'tro entered a code into a keypad. The door slid open a moment later, the mechanisms creaking in protest after their long disuse.

A'tro paused on the threshold for a moment, then shook her head and advanced forward, Nox in tow. The door ground shut behind them.

As far as Nox could tell, the place looked much like any other set of Sith chambers. There was a considerable layer of dust—apparently A'tro had sealed the place off even from the cleaning droids—but apart from that it all appeared quite benign. Still, Nox understood A'tro's reluctance to enter. Memory could be a dangerous thing.

"I remember coming here when I was just an apprentice," A'tro murmured, almost to herself, as she led Nox through a series of rooms. "It feels like an eternity ago."

"To think, we were apprentices at the same time," Nox said. "It's a wonder we never ran into each other. Then again, I suppose we moved in different circles."

"That's true. I heard about what happened with your master and Darth Skotia, though."

"I think everyone heard about that," Nox grumbled. " _I_ was the one who killed him, you know, even if Zash took the credit."

"I don't doubt it. Even then, you must have been very powerful." A'tro stopped in front of what looked like a blank wall. "Here."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "Secret door?"

"Yes." A'tro held up one hand. Nox felt her gather the Force, and a moment later, a portion of the wall shifted and retracted, revealing an entrance.

"Very nice," Nox said. "Very neat. I'm afraid I have to give Baras some credit."

A'tro shrugged. "Give him all the credit you like. He's past flattery now." She stepped inside the room.

Nox followed. The entrance was small enough that she had to stoop to avoid hitting her head. "Do you not worry about Force ghosts?"

The room was filled with an assortment of computers and databanks that would not have looked out of place in Intelligence HQ. The tech was all a few years old, now, but at the height of Baras' power it would have been the most advanced equipment available. Nox decided that she needed such a room for herself, and she needed it yesterday.

A'tro immediately went to a terminal and started it up. "Ghosts? No, those don't particularly concern me. Also, please don't touch anything. I had all the security keyed to me after Baras' death, and it would be very unfortunate if you set it off."

"Fine with me." Nox leaned artfully against the nearest wall. "You know, I don't think most people worry about ghosts. It's an unfortunate mindset. They're more prevalent than one might think."

"I suspect you've thinned the local population a bit, though."

"To an extent. At least the Council agreed to re-seal the Dark Temple; that should help matters considerably."

A'tro frowned at the terminal. "I've been in there. I can't disagree that it's dangerous."

"It would have been fine if the survey teams had been a little more subtle," Nox sighed. "But no, they had to go and disturb Kallig, and now he refuses to go back to sleep." She chuckled. "He likes to keep an eye on me. It's sweet."

"I can't imagine meeting one of my ancestors."

"Given that your ancestors were ridiculously violent, possibly cannibalistic Korribani warlords, I'm not sure I'd want to."

"On the other hand, it could be enlightening…here." A'tro moved away from the terminal as a nearby holoprojector started up. "I think this is what we're looking for."

It took a few moments for the holoprojector to warm up. Then the image of a masked Sith whom Nox recognized as Darth Baras appeared.

"A'tro, my old apprentice," the image said.

A'tro tensed visibly.

"Yes," the image continued, "I suspect if anyone is ever to see this, it will be you. Though I do not believe I have underestimated you, if you are seeing this: congratulations."

Nox raised an eyebrow. "This seems rather personal. Would you like me to leave?"

A'tro shook her head. "Don't bother. Baras is dead and gone; his words mean nothing to me."

"How long have you rested on your laurels before perusing my records, I wonder?" Baras mused. "Do you still feel the sting of your injuries—for I would not perish quietly—or have you waited years, decades, drawn here now only by sheer desperation?"

" _Necessity_ ," A'tro snapped.

 _And his words mean nothing to you_ , Nox thought. _Definitely nothing._

"If you are here seeking answers, I have them." Even in holo form, Baras radiated smugness. "You may find your victory is not so sweet after you have heard what I have to say."

"Get on with it, you melodramatic—" A'tro stopped short, seeing Nox regarding her with a knowing expression.

"Your master, the Emperor, used you to destroy me," Baras said softly. "Did you know that? Did you know why? You were never one to question your orders, old friend. I doubt you could ever have imagined just what is being hidden from you."

"I hate to say it," Nox murmured, "But that does corroborate with what Necrosion said."

A'tro remained silent and expressionless, but her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

The image of Baras continued. "I have heard whispers over the years, found fragments of a greater truth that encompasses centuries and the entirety of the galaxy. With time and care, I pieced it all together. I learned the truth about our Emperor."

Nox leaned forward, intrigued in spite of herself. It seemed Baras' reputation for being an eloquent and theatrical speaker had not been exaggerated.

"The Emperor's great power, his immortality, comes at a high price. Concealed and forgotten by history, entire worlds float dead and empty in the void—their living Force consumed to feed him. A being such as this has no care for political ideology. In time, Republic and Empire alike will fall before him."

"That's a lie," A'tro hissed, her eyes fixed intently on the holo. "Another wild conspiracy theory—where's your evidence?"

"I learned this truth, and I tried to stop it," Baras said grimly. "Under my rule, the Empire would have quietly prepared for the inevitable war against its own icon. But if you are seeing this, I have failed. The Emperor is cunning, and his eyes are everywhere. He will not tolerate opposition."

Nox kept her face blank, but her mind was racing. If this were true, if even a fraction of it were true…

She suddenly realized that she had a great deal to do.

"So, what do you think of that, Lord A'tro?" Baras chuckled. "The Emperor's Wrath—Quinn tells me you take such pride in the title."

"I should have killed you slower," A'tro whispered.

Nox's brain burned with curiosity, but she had a feeling that A'tro was in no mood to answer inquiries, no matter how diplomatic.

"How does it make you feel, knowing that it's all a sham?" Baras gloated. "You, with all your power, possess no more freedom than you did when you served me. The Emperor will use you to destroy all who oppose him, and then you too shall fall."

"How dare you?" A'tro spat. "How _dare_ you?"

"I hope it burns you," Baras purred. "I hope it rankles in your chest to know that all you have fought and bled for is a lie. I may lose this conflict of ours, but I take pleasure knowing that even from beyond the grave, I can still strike one final blow. Goodbye, apprentice. You will find proof of all this in my archives. Do with it as you will."

The recording ended.

Nox eyed A'tro for a moment, then took a subtle step away from her. She looked calm enough, but in the Force, she felt ready to explode.

"Perhaps," Nox said after several more moments of silence, "I should leave you to your thoughts."

A'tro gave no acknowledgment that she had heard. Nox decided it would be prudent to put as much distance between herself and the seething Wrath as possible, and did so with Force-enhanced speed.

Back in her chambers, she gathered together all of the reports her followers had sent her about Force ghosts and artifacts. Faced with the possibility of a malevolent entity that could destroy entire planets, even her power was not nearly enough.


	24. Chapter 24

**Twenty-Four**

 _Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

Thaera frowned down at the datapad in her hand as if her displeasure could somehow change its contents. A few steps away, Keeper looked as pale and solemn as always. She had recovered from the incident with the Star Cabal well enough to return to active duty, much to Thaera's relief. Intelligence was far too much for one person to manage alone.

"How is this possible?" Thaera muttered.

"I'm sorry, sir. I wish I could give you a better answer," Keeper said, reluctant to meet her eyes. "But with Intelligence at a fraction of its former capacity over the last two years…"

"Anything could have slipped through the cracks. I know. It was a rhetorical question." Thaera sighed and laid the datapad down on the desk behind her. "So, what do we have?"

Keeper's mouth tightened. "Very little. This is the first mention we've seen of this 'Agent Eclipse.' If the Republic forces on Tatooine had used a better encryption for their communications, we might not have even gotten this."

"Knowing is half the battle, or so they say. I assume you've put the best people on this?"

"Of course, sir."

"Good. This is a matter of the highest urgency, Keeper. A Republic spy in our ranks cannot be tolerated."

Keeper nodded. "We'll find them."

Thaera stared grimly at the nearest wall, memories drifting unbidden to the surface of her mind. "I will not permit the SIS to get the better of me. Of us."

Then her holocom went off.

She activated the device, audio only. "I thought I asked not to be disturbed."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the voice of one of the Minders in charge of internal security. "But there's a Sith here asking to see you. She says she has an appointment."

Thaera frowned. Darth Nox wouldn't ask, nor would she need to. What Sith would possibly…?

Then she remembered that she did, in fact, have an appointment.

"Keep her in the entrance hall," she said. "I'll be down shortly. Seeker out."

Keeper moved towards the door. "I should get back to work."

Thaera nodded. "Notify me the instant you find anything on Agent Eclipse."

"Yes, sir," Keeper said, and left.

Thaera took a moment to collect her thoughts, then headed down towards the entrance hall. The discovery of the possible existence of a Republic agent embedded somewhere in the Imperial hierarchy had caused her to completely forget her other business.

Darth Nox had made very few requests upon taking control of Intelligence, but she had made one that had made Thaera question the Sith Lord's capacity for reason.

Nox wanted Sith apprentices to go through the training Intelligence gave field agents. _Only a select few, of course,_ she'd said. _Those who fit the appropriate personality profile._ And then she'd suggested that should these candidates pass the training, Thaera would use them as actual agents. _Combine Intelligence discipline and resourcefulness with Sith power, and you'll have the perfect operatives._

Thaera personally felt that Sith should stay as far away from Intelligence as possible and let them do their job, but she was in no position to argue with a Dark Council member, let alone the one who was now her direct superior. She had been surprised, however, when she received a message informing her that Nox had already found a possibility.

She stopped short before walking into the entrance hall, taking a moment to study the person waiting quietly off to one side.

Darth Nox's candidate was a human female a little over five feet tall, with a build so slender that her plain black Sith robes seemed to envelop her small form in a shapeless cloud of darkness. She had golden-brown skin and deep black hair that framed an oval face. Her small, delicate nose, full mouth, and heavy-lidded dark eyes would probably be considered pretty by most humanoid species.

Thaera was never sure about human ages, but the Sith looked quite young, possibly still an adolescent. That was a smart move on Nox's part. If this idea of hers was going to work at all, it would have to be with younger Sith who were open to new ideas.

The Sith noticed Thaera lurking in the doorway and moved forward with confidence.

"Hello," she said, smiling. "I know this is probably a bit weird, but I'm supposed to meet with whoever's in charge here."

Thaera kept her face impassive. "That would be me."

The girl's eyes widened; up close, Thaera could see that her irises, which had appeared black from a distance, were actually very dark blue. "Oh. Uh, I'm Kettrien Byrd. You probably already knew that."

Seeing a Sith, even an apprentice, become visibly flustered was certainly one of the odder things Thaera had ever experienced. "I am Seeker, head of Sith Intelligence," she said coolly. "Darth Nox has informed me that you are a potential candidate to undergo Intelligence training. Is this correct?"

Kettrien nodded. "Yes, sir."

The title seemed to come easily to her lips, another thing Thaera had not expected. "You are currently an apprentice in the Sith Order?"

"Yes, sir. Lord Savadar Ekari is my master—this was his idea, actually. He heard about Darth Nox's initiative and thought I would be suited for it."

"And how do you feel about it?"

Kettrien shrugged. "Honestly? Being a spy seems pretty cool."

Thaera's blank expression slipped as she found herself raising an eyebrow at that comment. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

It seemed she was getting better at estimating human ages. "Excellent. Most Intelligence agents begin their training at a similar age."

"Makes sense," Kettrien said. "I assume I need to go through some kind of approval process? I mean, you can't just dump a Sith in with everyone else. It would be awkward."

Thaera's eyebrow climbed higher. "Are you always this candid, Kettrien Byrd?"

Kettrien winced. "That's probably a bad trait in a spy, isn't it?"

"Our training program will help with that, if you qualify." Thaera turned and started down the hallway towards Operations. "Come with me. There are a few tests you need to fill out."

Kettrien trotted up next to her, radiating excitement. "Sir, I know saying this probably won't make a difference, but if I can help out by doing this, it would be really great. I was born outside the Empire, you see, and I actually have some experience with this type of—"

"We'll see," Thaera said shortly.

Kettrien fell silent.

Thaera had to admit, the girl had spirit. It was a shame that Intelligence work would almost certainly break it. Assuming, of course, that her test results showed her to have the suitable character for it in the first place.

Perhaps Nox's idea had some merit after all.


	25. Chapter 25

**Twenty-Five**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

A'tro gripped the railing of the balcony tightly, staring out over the dark jungle as if it held the answers to the questions she had been asking herself over and over. The cloud cover was unusually thin, letting the occasional ray of light slip through to paint the gnarled treetops red as the sun sank steadily towards the horizon. As she watched, a flock of avians rose up from the canopy and fluttered a ways before settling back down under the cover of the leaves.

The lights of Kaas City were a dull glow in her peripheral vision. The ordinary citizenry would be heading home, as curfew was not long after sunset. At night, the streets belonged to the military, the police, and the Sith.

This was what she fought for, wasn't it? The people of Kaas City could go home at night and feel safe and content knowing that they were a part of the galaxy's greatest civilization. To her, the Empire was an ideal: the ultimate manifestation of order, of society evolved to the perfection of an intricate machine with no part out of place. She had killed and bled for that ideal, and she had done so proudly.

Only now did she realize that it had all been a lie.

A'tro felt the Force shift as a familiar presence entered the apartment and made its way towards her. Quinn was back from the front. That was good. She needed to talk to someone rational, and there was surely no one in the galaxy more rational than her husband.

There were also few, if any, more loyal to the Empire. Surely he, of all people, would understand.

The door to the balcony slid open, then closed again, and a moment later he was standing beside her. He laid his gloved hands on the railing, close enough to hers to be intimate, but far enough to not be presumptuous. A year together wasn't nearly enough to overcome the ingrained understanding that he must be wary and respectful of a Sith at all times.

"Welcome back," A'tro said, still watching the jungle. Her voice seemed to belong to someone else.

"Thank you. I—" Quinn broke off as she turned to look at him, his brow contracting into a frown. "Forgive me, but you don't look at all well."

It had been four days since she had gone with Nox to Baras' chambers. She hadn't slept in all that time. "I suppose I'm not," she admitted.

His frown deepened. "What's happened?"

A small, hollow laugh tumbled unbidden from her lips. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Quinn hesitated for a moment, then moved one hand to rest on top of hers. "You know I will do whatever I can to assist you, if you wish it."

His earnestness was so endearing that A'tro almost managed to smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Malavai."

He blushed a little at that. "I'm sure you would be fine, my love."

Those two small words were enough to coax a smile out of her in full force, but it quickly faded as she reflected on what to do next.

Should she tell him? Quinn was a patriot, more devoted to the Empire than most people she'd ever known. If this revelation had shaken her, how would he react? Would he even believe her?

The darkest corner of her memory stirred.

 _If you stand with Baras, you stand against the Emperor himself._

 _The Emperor is an absentee landlord. Baras is doing what any real patriot would do._

She should have listened.

He was still looking at her with unveiled concern. A'tro took a deep breath, collected her thoughts, and made her decision.

"I've learned something," she said softly. "I didn't want to believe it, but the evidence turned out to be irrefutable."

She told him about the recording Baras had left for her. She told him how she had spent the past four days scouring Baras' archives, retracing his steps as he pieced together the data from history, from his spies, and came to the only possible conclusion. Throughout it all, Quinn listened silently, meeting her eyes unwaveringly, his hand still resting atop hers on the balcony rail as the sky grew dark beyond them.

"Many years ago," A'tro said, "Darth Thanaton came to the Dark Council and told them of the secret Children of the Emperor. He drew too close to the truth, and in the end, he was silenced. Baras speculated that Darth Jadus knew the Emperor's secret as well, and he has vanished from the face of the galaxy. This changes everything, but I find I have no choice but to accept it: in time, our own Emperor will seek to destroy us all."

She fell silent, watching Quinn for a reaction.

"Much of this is beyond the scope of my understanding," he said slowly, after a long pause. "I am no Sith, after all. But one thing seems clear: all those who have gained this knowledge have disappeared, or been killed outright. I find myself deeply concerned for your safety."

A'tro blinked. "I just told you that the founder of our entire civilization likely sees us only as a potential energy source, and you're worried about _me?_ "

"My loyalty is to the Empire and its ideals," Quinn said fiercely. "Not the Emperor himself. If you believe we should oppose him, I will do so without hesitation. I can live in a galaxy without an Emperor. I do not wish to live in one without you."

"I, ah," A'tro fumbled for sufficient words in the face of that declaration. "I suppose you took it better than I did, then," she mumbled lamely.

He looked a bit embarrassed at that. "I'm sorry. This must be very difficult for you."

"Honestly? It's the most difficult thing I've ever faced."

"I can't imagine what you must be going through."

"Talking to you has made me feel better." His willingness to accept what she'd said had already made the future seem brighter.

Quinn perked up. "I'm pleased I could be of assistance."

A'tro nodded. "What you said a moment ago, about opposing the Emperor…is that what you think we should do?"

"Absolutely," Quinn said firmly. "If we have foreknowledge of the enemy's plans, it would be foolhardy not to prepare. Secretly, of course, but I do not think we should sit idly by and do nothing."

The enemy. The Sith Emperor was the enemy.

That would take some getting used to.

"I'm not sure what we can do," A'tro said. "We need more support. The rest of the Dark Council…I don't know what they know. But Darth Nox might be willing to do something."

"I cannot speak for the Sith, obviously. But the military seems to have a very favorable opinion of you, thanks to your efforts in the war. That should prove useful."

"Hmm." A'tro raised a brow-ridge. "I ought to have you promoted."

Quinn frowned. "We've discussed this. I wish to earn my rank on merit, not as a side benefit of our relationship."

"I understand that, but the fact remains that if not for your extended stay on Balmorra, you would doubtless be placed far higher than you are now. Can't I make up for that?"

"I know better than to argue with you when you have that look in your eye."

A'tro snickered. "Only you would try to convince a Sith _not_ to reward you for your exceptional service."

"There are too many officers who are more concerned with advancing their own careers than with furthering Imperial goals," Quinn grumbled. "It's unacceptable, and I will not be one of them."

A'tro smiled cajolingly. "And if you let me, I can put you in a position to do something about that sooner rather than later."

"You'd make me a Moff if I let you."

"I absolutely would. You're far more capable than most of the ones we already have."

Quinn shook his head. "I'll leave that up to my superiors to decide."

"You're so stubborn," A'tro said fondly. She sighed. "I should go speak with Nox."

"You should _rest_. You told me you haven't slept in four days."

"Purebloods don't need as much sleep as humans. I'm fine."

"I must respectfully disagree," Quinn said in his most even and rational voice. "You should sleep for at least a few hours."

He could convince her of anything with that voice, and they both knew it.

"Fine," A'tro sighed. "Nox can wait. Just…thank you. For listening."

Quinn inclined his head deferentially. "Whatever happens, I will follow you."


	26. Chapter 26

**Twenty-Six**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

The invitation had been the perfect combination of polite, vague, and urgent to make Nox very curious as she made her way to A'tro's apartment. She had a feeling this meeting pertained to the information revealed by Darth Baras' message, and she was most interested to learn what A'tro had made of all that.

Nox herself had been busy for the past five days. She'd cracked down on her subordinates, reminding them of the penalty for failure—and, in the case of her more attractive male followers, the reward for success. Her motivating efforts had borne fruit, producing an approximate location for an ancient vault that was supposed to contain a number of Force artifacts.

It was on Nar Shaddaa, of all places. That planet was certainly a good place to lose things one didn't want found. Nox had decided that it would be best to handle the matter personally, and had been preparing to leave when she'd received the call from A'tro asking to meet with her.

The door leading to A'tro's chambers was, as always, flanked by two Imperial Guards. Nox wondered briefly if it had occurred to A'tro that they were probably there to keep an eye on her. Well, if she hadn't thought of it before, she probably had now.

"Hello there," Nox said, smiling pleasantly. "The Wrath is expecting me."

One of the guards took out a comlink and muttered into it, then turned back to her.

"You may proceed, my lord," he said respectfully while his partner opened the door.

Nox inclined her head graciously and stepped inside, mostly managing to suppress a spike of paranoia as the door slid shut behind her.

The antechamber was empty, so she proceeded into the main living area. A'tro was sitting on her low, narrow black couch, back perfectly straight. She looked up as Nox entered the room.

"Ah, there you are. Thank you for coming," she said.

Nox took a seat in a chair across from her. "It's not every day one receives a personal invitation from the Emperor's Wrath." She watched closely for a reaction to the title.

A'tro flinched so slightly that Nox's trained eye barely picked it up. "We have things to discuss."

"I'm sure we do," Nox murmured. "By the way, did you change your guards? I seem to recall that one was taller than the other, but the ones outside right now are the same height."

A'tro canted her head to one side. "You're very observant."

Nox smiled.

"To answer your question, yes. Zariel asked to be reassigned when Quinn re-entered my service, and I saw no reason not to allow it."

Nox leaned forward, sensing gossip. "Perhaps she took issue with the manner of service he provides."

"Given that she's his mother, I'm rather certain she did," A'tro said dryly. "But I didn't ask you here to discuss my personal life."

"That doesn't mean we can't still discuss it."

"Yes, it does."

"Fine, fine, deny me my fun." Nox lounged back into the chair, which was quite uncomfortable. "What's the topic of today's conversation, then?"

A'tro frowned, folding her hands in her lap. "I think you can guess."

"The Emperor," Nox stated.

"Yes."

"I take it you've been thinking about Baras' parting message, then?"

"More than thinking." A'tro sighed. "Nox, I looked at his records. Everything he said—it's true. It's all true."

"So the Emperor really is going to kill us all? How dreadfully spooky."

A'tro's jaw tightened.

"That's not good," Nox added quickly in a much more somber tone. Contrary to popular belief, she was in fact capable of taking things seriously when the situation warranted it. "I assume you asked me here because you intend to try to do something about it?"

"Yes," A'tro said quietly. "I'm not sure what we can do, not yet, but…I am asking for your support."

"My support?" Nox raised an eyebrow. "My support for what? Some sort of covert resistance movement? A'tro, I am grateful for the information, and I will of course make preparations on my own in secret, but I have no intention of joining a rebel alliance."

"Did you not hear what I said? If we do nothing, the Empire will eventually be destroyed by its own Emperor. We cannot simply allow this to happen!"

"If you want to directly oppose an entity with that kind of power, by all means, go ahead. It's your funeral. I, however, prefer to survive."

"And how do you intend to do that?" A'tro demanded.

"I have plans. But they are _my_ plans, and I have no interest in sharing them with anyone."

A'tro moved her hands from her lap to her sides, clenching them into fists. "It's precisely that sort of thinking that has kept us from winning the war! As long as Sith continue to serve their own interests above those of the Empire, we will accomplish nothing. An Empire divided is an Empire weakened. I had thought you, of all people, would be able to see that."

"I see just fine," Nox retorted. "But I owe the Empire _nothing_."

A'tro made no effort to keep her anger from showing on her face and in the Force. "The Empire enslaved you, so you won't lift a finger to protect it. Is that what this is about?"

"Not exactly. But you're close."

"You shouldn't let your past hold you back from doing the right thing. Look at where you are now. Through victory—"

"My chains are broken, the Force shall free me, yes, yes, I know," Nox snapped. She fought back her irritation; this was not the time to lose her temper. "Even if I explained it to you, I doubt you'd understand."

A'tro regarded her grimly. "Try me."

"Oh, no, I think not," Nox said softly. "You're a Pureblood, born and raised with the understanding that the galaxy exists to fuel your whims. You have no idea what it's like to fear and resent the establishment that made you what you are."

"Fine," A'tro snapped. "I get it. You're not interested."

Nox shrugged. "Don't take it personally. Now, since we _are_ allies, even if I have no interest in joining your cause, I'll give you a free bit of advice: you're going about this wrong."

"Really."

"Yes, really." Nox rested her elbows on her lap and steepled her fingers together. "If I were you, I would not have approached me. I'm much too unpredictable and self-absorbed."

"What do you suggest, then?"

Nox smiled. "It's simple. Talk to Marr. If I were inclined to gamble, I would wager that he already knows at least some of this secret business about the Emperor."

A'tro frowned. "Marr is a loyalist."

"To the _Empire_ , my dear, not the Emperor himself. There is a difference."

"Yes, I'm starting to realize that," A'tro muttered. "You think he already knows?"

"Of course. I doubt he's stayed in power as long as he has by _not_ knowing vital information."

"Vowrawn knew too," A'tro mused. "He must have. And that made him a target."

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so." A'tro's mouth twisted bitterly. "I was the one who killed him. On the Emperor's orders."

Nox's eyes widened. Suddenly, everything made a great deal more sense. "So that's why you didn't want me pursuing that lead."

"They told me to keep it a secret," A'tro muttered, not looking at her. "I didn't even question it."

"My goodness," Nox breathed. "I suppose that confirms Baras' theory, doesn't it?"

"Beyond the shadow of a doubt."

Nox frowned slightly. "That doesn't change my answer, you know. I'm not going to stick my neck out."

"Yes, I believe you've made that abundantly clear."

"I've given you my advice. Talk to Marr. Together, the two of you could probably take on half the Jedi Order all at once, so I recommend you get on his good side."

A'tro raised a brow-ridge. "Does he have a good side?"

"Maybe not, but you can try."

A'tro sighed. "Diplomacy has never been my strong suit."

"I seem to recall saying a few days ago that desperate times call for desperate measures. Of course, the level of desperation is up to you, but I suggest you try." Nox smiled her most pleasant smile.

"I'll keep it in mind."

"You should. Now, since I'm here…" Nox leaned forward. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that proposal Rictus made the last time the Council met. I was hoping you could help me prevent this foolishness."

A'tro nodded. "Tell me more."


	27. Chapter 27

**Twenty-Seven**

 _Kaas City Spaceport, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

"My lord, I wish I could go with you." Even in hologram form, Talos Drellik radiated disappointment.

Nox smiled. "I wouldn't dream of recalling you from your expedition. It will probably be more fruitful than my endeavors, anyway."

"Perhaps you're right." Talos brightened. "We've already found evidence of structures that once existed all the way out here! It seems this part of Dromund Kaas is not as unexplored as we once believed."

"Any sign of the previous expedition?" Nox made her way up her ship's boarding ramp, balancing her holocom on one palm as she entered the hatch access code with the other.

"No, none. But that was almost forty years ago, and the jungle is quick to reclaim what civilization leaves behind."

"Well, I look forward to your full report." Nox closed the hatch behind her, entered the command to raise the boarding ramp, and headed for the bridge. "And if you see any sort of Force ghosts, run."

"Of course, my lord. But not without taking a few holos, first." Talos sounded quite excited by the prospect.

"Be careful," Nox chided. "I don't want to lose my best archaeologist."

"You flatter me, Lord Nox. Good luck on your artifact hunt."

"And you." Nox ended the transmission.

She sat down in the pilot's chair and sent a request to launch to Docking Control, then prepared the navicomputer to take her to Nar Shaddaa. It was time to get to work.

* * *

 _Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas_

 _14 ATC_

Thaera contemplated the datapad for a long moment, then entered her signature and handed it back to Watcher Twenty. "There."

With that, Kettrien Byrd was approved to begin training as an Intelligence operative. If she passed, it would be time to put Nox's theory about Sith agents to the test.

"Thank you, sir," Watcher Twenty said, tucking the datapad under her arm. "Watcher Forty-five apologizes for not asking in person, but—"

"Asset Acquisition is swamped. I know." Thaera started to turn away, then paused. "Is there anything else?"

Watcher Twenty shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I have a verbal request from the Science Bureau, sir. Doctor Lokin requires your authorization to acquire test subjects for Project Equilibrium."

"Tell him he has it." Thaera frowned as the rest of the sentence sank in. "Why were you in a position to take requests from the Science Bureau? You're supposed to be in Tactical."

"Yes, sir. I was retrieving data from several of the weapons projects."

"Ah. Yes, of course." Thaera shook her head; her long workdays were starting to get to her. "You'd better get back to it, then. Dismissed."

Watcher Twenty saluted and scurried off.

Thaera hadn't even made it two steps in the direction of her office when she was intercepted by Keeper.

"Sir, about the project you started a few weeks ago…" Keeper looked around the bustling Operations room, then leaned in close and whispered. "Preliminary reports are in. We've been unable to find any leads on Agent Eclipse's identity."

"That's bad," Thaera said quietly. "We need this taken care of, and quickly. You have authorization to use whatever measures you deem necessary to resolve this threat."

"Yes, sir."

"Get it done. Was there more you wanted?" The words emerged more abrasively than Thaera had intended.

"One of our deep cover agents in the Republic just sent in a report. I suggest we move to a more secure location."

Thaera suppressed a sigh. "We can continue this in my office." As always, her work was never done.

* * *

 _Korriban_

 _14 ATC_

In the distance, an Imperial warship drifted through the orange sky in low orbit. The pale sun gleamed in the cold dark far beyond, its piercing rays lancing through the atmosphere like a lightsaber through armor to blast the bleak, steep cliffs that stood a few kilometers away from the Sith Academy.

A'tro picked her way over the rocky ground towards the cliff's edge, where a familiar imposing figure already stood as implacable as the stones around him.

Darth Marr turned away from the horizon to face her as she approached. In the Force, he echoed the dark energies of the planet around them.

A'tro stopped close enough to talk, but far enough away that she didn't have to crane her neck too much to look him in the mask. She wasn't intimidated by his physical presence, but she hated having to look up at people, and the top of her head didn't even reach his shoulder.

"Thank you for meeting with me," she said. It had taken two months to even have the opportunity; Marr was rarely away from the front lines.

He shrugged briefly, one spiked spaulder shifting. "I wondered when you would ask."

A'tro frowned. "You were expecting this?"

"I expected that eventually, you would see fit to share information with me. Information pertaining to the fate of the Empire."

"That was what I said in my message." A'tro kept her hands at her sides, close to her lightsabers. Something felt off.

"You are very trusting, Wrath." Marr took half a step closer to her.

A'tro didn't move. "How so?"

"You let me choose the time and place of this meeting." He gestured to the landscape around them. "Here, we are out of range of the Academy's patrols and sensors. I could kill you at this very moment, and no one would ever know."

"I'm not one of your rivals," A'tro pointed out, every muscle in her body tensing in anticipation. "If you kill me, that's treason."

If she had miscalculated, and this led to a fight, she wasn't entirely sure that she could win. It was not a pleasant thought.

"Yes," Marr murmured, the filters in his mask turning the last consonant into a metallic hiss. "Treason. That is why you came here, is not? To discuss treason?"

A'tro squared her shoulders. "If wanting to fight for the Empire's future is treason, then yes, that's what I'm here to discuss."

Marr was silent for a long moment. A'tro started eyeing the terrain, sizing it up for tactical purposes.

"Many years ago, I uncovered information that…disturbed me," Marr said slowly. "I sought to take action, but was foiled before my plans reached fruition." A rare note of open anger colored the last few words. "And now, I suspect you hold the final answer to unlock the mystery."

"What makes you say that?" A'tro asked, still wary.

"You are the Emperor's Wrath."

"Yes. I—yes." She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. "I believe I've learned the truth. About our Emperor's long silence."

"I thought as much." Marr nodded, seemingly to himself. "When the previous Wrath disappeared, I began to wonder. And now here you are, speaking words of doom, as he did."

"My predecessor?" Curiosity began to mingle with her tension. "He knew something?"

"Perhaps. He did not involve himself with the Dark Council as you do, and shared little. He is long gone, now."

"Yes, I suppose it doesn't matter at this point," A'tro muttered. She took another deep breath, steeling herself. "This is what I've learned."

She laid out the facts as she understood them, plainly and without flinching. As she spoke, she watched Marr carefully for a reaction, but he was impossible to read, both physically and in the Force.

When she finished, it was quiet. The sun was climbing closer to the top of the sky as another warship orbited past. Somewhere in the distance, a tuk'ata howled a hunting call.

"I see," Marr said finally. "Then it is as I feared."

A'tro nodded. "Besides the two of us, only Darth Nox knows the truth." And Quinn, but Marr didn't need to know that. "I don't trust the rest of the Council."

"Nor should you. They are too absorbed in their own power struggles to see that the Empire is crumbling around them."

She had the sense Marr was scowling behind his mask. "Nox has told me that she will keep this knowledge a secret, but she has no interest in taking any action to oppose the Emperor."

"Unsurprising. I doubt she will commit until the threat is imminent."

"Then it's just us for the time being."

"Indeed." Marr looked over at the warship on the horizon. "Propaganda may say otherwise, but at the front, it is clear: the war does not go well. We are not losing, but we are far from victory. If our fellow Sith continue to waste resources on internal squabbles, defeat will become a certainty."

"We'll be caught between the Republic and our own Emperor."

"If he seeks to destroy us, he is no Emperor of mine," Marr said grimly.

"He betrayed me," A'tro whispered. "He betrayed us all."

Marr folded his arms across his armored chest. "The Empire will not fall, not so long as I live to fight for it. The two of us must bring the Dark Council into line and break this stalemate with the Republic if we are to have the strength for the struggle that is surely to come."

"Agreed." A'tro kept her voice firm, but inside, a part of her was quailing. She had just agreed to commit treason.

 _It's_ not _treason,_ she told herself. _The Emperor is the real traitor. You're fighting for the good of the Empire. Remember that._

It still felt wrong somehow, but she had no intention of turning back.


	28. Chapter 28

**Twenty-Eight**

 _Jedi Temple, Tython_

 _14 ATC_

The light side of the Force was everywhere, cloaking the room like the misty spray from one of Tython's many waterfalls. K'saria let it wash over her, the collective serenity of countless generations of Jedi loosening the dark knots of turmoil in her mind. Even the power of the Temple was not enough to ease her mind entirely, however. That was why she stood in the presence of a being whose own personal light seemed as great as that of Tython itself.

Grand Master Satele Shan smiled kindly, and K'saria fought the urge to kneel; her instincts to genuflect before such a powerful master of the Force were deeply ingrained. Even after eleven years, she was still learning how to be a Jedi.

"I can sense that you're troubled, K'saria," Satele said.

"I am, and—thank you, Master Satele, for taking the time to meet with me." The words fell out before K'saria quite realized what they were. "I'm sure you have a great deal to do—"

"It's quite all right," Satele interrupted, waving a hand to dismiss the notion. "The path of a Jedi is difficult, especially for those who come to it later in life, and I am always happy to offer whatever guidance I can."

K'saria gave in to instinct and bowed deeply. "I am grateful, Master."

Satele smiled again and moved sedately over to one of the few furnishings in her chamber: a low, square table with flat cushions laid on the floor on each side. She settled herself on one cushion, and motioned to the one across from her. "Come. Sit with me, and tell me what's on your mind."

K'saria sat carefully on the cushion, folding her hands in her lap, and tried to think of how best to explain her predicament. Her upbringing as a Sith had prepared her adequately enough for most things in life, but talking to people was not one of them.

Satele waited patiently for her to begin. Despite what she had said, K'saria was fairly certain that the Grand Master had more important things to do than play therapist, so she sped up her contemplation until she'd managed to arrange her thoughts into a workable verbal form.

"I've been troubled by what happened to Elaedrin Myn," she said slowly. "Try as I might, I just can't seem to let it go." The ridges on her forehead contracted into a frown. "I feel responsible."

Satele nodded. "It's always difficult to lose a comrade—especially to the dark side. But sometimes, Jedi fall, and there is not always anything we can do to prevent it."

"If I had paid more attention," K'saria said bitterly. "If I had spent more time with her, made the dangers of the darkness more clear, she might not have done what she did. I could have saved her."

"It is good to learn from the past, but you can't let it torment you. Elaedrin is beyond your reach, now. You need to let this go."

"I've tried," K'saria whispered. "But every time I close my eyes to meditate, I see her. I see the look on her face when she turned on our troops. I see her kneel before Darth Ravage while Setia Aru lies dead not two meters away."

Satele started to say something, but K'saria kept going.

"On Tatooine, when I confronted Darth Ravage and Darth Nox, I told myself I wanted to bring them to justice, but I didn't. I wanted revenge—for Setia, for Elaedrin, for every Jedi who has suffered at the hands of the Sith. I couldn't find my focus, and my men, my Jedi companions, they all paid for my mistake with their lives. I can feel the dark side drawing close to me, biting at my heels. I'm afraid, Master."

Satele sat silently, clearly processing what she had just heard. She looked at her with a clear, discerning gaze, blue-gray eyes meeting golden. "Are you sure that's what's really troubling you, K'saria?"

"What?" K'saria's distressed frown turned to one of confusion. "Of course it is. What else would I…?" She trailed off, the clutter in her mind melting away under the weight of the Grand Master's presence.

"I can sense," Satele murmured, "That you aren't being entirely honest with yourself."

K'saria took a deep breath. "My sister."

"The Emperor's Wrath."

"Yes. I still can hardly believe that's who she is, now. I never would have imagined that was who she would become. What happened to Elaedrin—it's reminded me. Of how terrible the dark side can truly be. But even so, I would never have expected this. Not of her."

"It's been a long time since you left the Empire," Satele reminded her. "People change."

"That's true. It's still difficult to process." K'saria looked down at the tabletop, the sight of the deep brown wood giving way to the images that paraded before her mind's eye. "Twins are supposed to be close, especially Force-sensitive ones, but we never developed that bond. Even as children, we were constantly pitted against each other."

Satele sat quietly, listening.

"Our parents were first cousins—their marriage was arranged by their parents, to keep our bloodline pure. They hated it, and each other, and they used their children as weapons in their constant battle. K'hera was our father's favorite, while I—" K'saria shook her head. "My mother was a selfish, cruel woman. She didn't care about me, only that I did better than my sister. And for a time, I did.

"Then K'hera went to Korriban and became the apprentice to a Darth, while I…I wasn't chosen by anyone. With no master, I had no future, no chance to advance among the Sith, and my family abandoned me. They—" K'saria's mind finally caught up to her mouth. "Forgive me, Master. I'm wasting your time."

"I always have time for my Knights," Satele said firmly.

"That's very kind of you to say, but I'll still try to keep this brief." K'saria adjusted her position on her cushion. "My sister is… When I saw the darkness in her, I saw the fate that I only narrowly escaped. When we fought on Telos last year, her feelings were clear. She wanted nothing more than to destroy me. We were never close, but it was still disturbing to feel such murderous intent from my own kin."

"I imagine it must have been difficult. Is that what's been troubling you?"

"In a sense. K'hera—" K'saria stopped herself. "I shouldn't call her that. She isn't K'hera anymore. She's Darth A'tro, the Emperor's Wrath, and she represents everything I left behind when I turned my back on the Empire."

Satele nodded.

"Master, I didn't just ask you to meet with me to assuage my worries," K'saria admitted. "I wanted to request your leave to embark upon a special mission."

Satele didn't look even remotely surprised. "You want to go after the Wrath."

"Yes." K'saria's clasped hands tightened together in her lap. "I know the Empire, and how it works. I know how my sister thinks. She is a grave threat to the Republic, and that threat must be eliminated. I know I'm no Shadow, but—"

"No."

K'saria's words died in her throat. "Would you mind explaining that, Master?" she asked carefully.

A frown marred Satele's serene visage. "You yourself said that you fear you're slipping closer to the dark side. To send you out into the field in such a state would be doing you a grave disservice. Beyond that, you are essentially proposing an assassination mission. As a Jedi, I cannot condone this course of action."

"Destroying the Emperor's Wrath could turn the tide of the war in our favor," K'saria protested. "If one Jedi must fall to ensure our victory, that is a sacrifice I will gladly make."

"That sacrifice has already been made too many times. You're letting this become personal," Satele said sternly. "Remember your teachings. Remember the Jedi Code."

"This is not a conclusion influenced by emotion, Master. It's the most logical course of action."

"I'm sure you believe that, but my decision is final." Satele stood up. "I'm removing you from active duty for a while. Some time to rest and meditate here on Tython will do you good, clear your head."

There was no use arguing. K'saria rose to her feet and bowed. "Yes, Master."

"We will defeat the Empire in time, but we cannot sacrifice our own values to do so. That is what makes us different from the Sith."

K'saria felt her face flush from the shame of being lectured like a Padawan. "I know, Master. I didn't mean—" She sighed. "I should have known better than to even think of it."

Satele smiled gently. "Don't be too hard on yourself, K'saria. I know this must be difficult for you. But I don't want to see you share Elaedrin Myn's fate."

"I will meditate on this," K'saria murmured evasively. Satele's piercing gaze suddenly made her feel unpleasantly exposed and vulnerable.

"Then I wish you well. May the Force be with you."

"And with you, Master," K'saria responded reflexively, then left as quickly as she could.

She didn't disagree with Satele, not entirely. The whispers of the dark side had been growing ever louder of late, and it was likely that influence that had led her to make her proposal—she wouldn't consider it an assassination, not exactly. She would give her sister ample opportunity to surrender, fight back, act with honor.

That sort of thinking was not the Jedi way, but K'saria couldn't accept sitting by and doing nothing, which seemed to be the Grand Master's preferred course of "action." Now that she was officially confined to the Temple for the time being, however, she wasn't sure what she could do.

It was something to think about.

* * *

Fury- _class starship_ Alecto

 _15 ATC_

When the holoterminal went off in the middle of the ship's night cycle, A'tro was tempted to ignore it and go back to sleep. But if someone was calling her ship directly, it was probably important, so she crawled out of bed, wrapped herself up in a robe, and went out to the main room.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to make it look like she hadn't just woken up, and answered the call. A moment later, the flickering blue holoimage of Darth Nox appeared above the projector.

A'tro blinked, wondering for a moment if she was in fact still asleep and having an odd dream. "Nox? Is that you?"

Nox chortled. "Of course it's me, my dear. Who would dare impersonate me?" More chortling.

A'tro stared, confusion and suspicion creeping through her fatigue. "It's been six months! Where the hell have you been?"

"Nar Shaddaa, darling," Nox said in a too-patient tone. "Looking for that blasted vault."

"And that kept you so busy you couldn't even send word back that you weren't dead? People were lining up to try to get your Council seats!"

"I assume you didn't let them."

"We argued about it for a while. The consensus was to give you time."

"How generous," Nox drawled. "I didn't miss anything exciting, did I?"

A'tro shrugged. "Not particularly. Ravage accidentally agreed with Marr about some strategy, which made him so angry he walked out of the meeting, but that was the most eventful occurrence."

"Typical." Nox's demeanor abruptly turned serious. "I didn't call you to gossip, though."

"No? Then by all means, get to the point so I can go back to sleep," A'tro grumbled.

"I won't go into details over holo, but…remember that thing we talked about before I left?"

A'tro frowned. "Probably?" One could never be too sure with Nox and her peculiar brand of logic.

"I've changed my mind," Nox said, smiling mysteriously. "My answer is now 'yes.'"

For a moment, A'tro thought she'd misheard. "You seemed rather certain before."

"Like I said," Nox murmured, "I've changed my mind."

"Well," A'tro said slowly, "That's good to hear, but why—"

"Ah, ah, ah, not over holo!" Nox waggled a finger disapprovingly. "We can discuss it later. I just wanted you to know."

"I appreciate it. I'm confused, but I appreciate it."

"Good." Nox beamed. "Well, I'd better get going. Toodles!"

Before A'tro could say anything, the transmission ended.

"What in the galaxy was _that_ about?" she muttered.

She looked across the room and saw that Quinn had appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think Nox just expressed her intention to support me against the Emperor."

Quinn appeared to think that over for a moment. "That seems like a positive to me."

"It does, but with Nox, I'm always a bit suspicious." A'tro sighed and moved away from the holoterminal. "There's nothing to do about it right now, anyway. I'm going back to bed." _While I can still afford to spare the time._

* * *

 _End part two._


	29. Chapter 29

**Twenty-Nine**

 _Dark Council Chambers, Korriban_

 _17 ATC_

The meeting was already well underway by the time Darth Ravage walked into the Dark Council chamber. Ignoring the mix of curious and displeased looks he received from those present, he made his way across the room and took his seat.

The Wrath was present in her spot to his right, an unusual sight these days. She'd spent much of the past few years either on the front lines or off the radar entirely. Ravage nodded to her politely. Their relationship had always been quite cordial. She wouldn't hesitate to kill him if the Emperor ordered it, and he'd have no qualms about killing her in self-defense, but under normal circumstances they tolerated one another, and that was how he liked it.

On the opposite side of the room, Darth Nox was absent yet again; the Council chamber had seen even less of her than of the Wrath lately. No doubt she was plotting something. The Sphere of Biotic Science was currently leaderless, and Ravage would be damned if he let her make a move for a third Council seat. Bad enough that the Wrath had bullied everyone into giving her Military Strategy after Darth Decimus was killed on Corellia. Consolidation was all very well and good, but taken too far, the Council would implode inward on itself.

That was the last thing the Empire needed.

Beside Nox's empty chair, Darth Marr was there in person. Their feud had been a constant in Ravage's life from the moment he first took his seat on the Council, and he was tired of it. For the time being, however, the status quo had to remain. As much as he hated to admit it, the Empire desperately needed Marr, and while Marr would surely die before even alluding to it, the Empire also needed Ravage. And so they had an understanding: one day, they would settle their dispute with blood. Just not yet.

Ravage was not a patient man.

There were a few other Darths present, but they were inconsequential in the greater scheme of things. The key players were the Wrath, Marr, Nox, and Ravage himself, and all of them but Nox were there. That was fine with him; he could all too easily imagine that insufferable woman's musical laughter at what he had to say.

"You're not usually late, Ravage," the Wrath said, turning in her chair to look at him. Her normally low voice had gone silken and teasing. "Did the elevator break down?"

That voice, combined with her elegantly beautiful face, improved his mood considerably. He'd always made an effort to stay on good terms with her for more than just political convenience. This was not the time to be distracted by such things, however.

"Nothing so trivial, unfortunately," Ravage said. "We have…a situation."

He had no way of knowing if Marr intended for his irritated sigh to filter through his mask, but it was clearly audible.

"What situation?" Marr demanded.

"The Chiss Ascendancy is breaking off its alliance with the Empire," Ravage said bluntly. No sense in dancing around the truth.

The Wrath sat up very straight. "What did you do?"

Ravage glared, his previously high opinion of her dropping slightly. Apparently she was filling in for Nox with the baseless accusations. "I didn't _do_ anything."

"Of course you didn't," Marr said with unveiled contempt. "The Diplomatic Service falls under your jurisdiction. If you had kept it on a tighter leash, doubtless this would have been avoided."

It rankled to admit it, even to himself, but Marr was right. Ravage had always let the Diplomatic Service operate largely independently, preferring to focus on the military and Sith portions of his power base. He hated dealing with diplomats, with their intricate lies and politics. No real spirit, no backbone. Despicable.

Well, he didn't care for their game, but he could play it if he had to. Especially now that he'd rearranged the board in his favor.

"I've taken measures," Ravage said. "The Minister of Diplomacy has been replaced, as have the others responsible for this incident."

That was why he'd been late to the meeting. Killing them all had taken longer than he'd anticipated.

"I should hope so," the Wrath muttered. "This is an unacceptable turn of events. Without the Chiss, we'll lose our foothold in the Unknown Regions."

"To say nothing of the blow to the Empire's image should its only legitimate allies be allowed to turn on us," Marr added.

"Yes, I'm well aware of all that," Ravage retorted. He would _not_ let this ruin him. He kept his eyes on Marr, watching for any hint that the masked Sith Lord had decided this was suitable grounds to end him then and there. "The new Minister of Diplomacy had assured me that she will resolve the situation. She oversaw the original negotiations with the Chiss, and I am confident that she can succeed a second time."

The Wrath shook her head. "She had better. This is your domain, not mine; I will not interfere. Should our soldiers in the Unknown Regions suddenly find themselves stranded without sufficient support, however, I expect you to make up the difference from your own forces."

"You act as if I have any to spare," Ravage countered. "This war is not going well for us. We all know it."

There was a long silence at that.

"Perhaps," Marr conceded.

"I'm still optimistic," the Wrath said stubbornly. "We're not entirely losing. Not yet. We still have a chance."

"For now. But if we do not rally soon…" Marr's mask turned towards the empty throne at the far end of the room.

The Emperor's throne.

"If matters do not change," Marr murmured, "This war will no longer be about victory, but survival."

"Which is why we _must_ keep the Chiss on our side," the Wrath insisted. "If they return to neutrality—or worse, if they join the Republic—"

"It's being taken care of," Ravage interjected. "As I said."

She regarded him intently for a long moment. "I would be careful, were I you. Failure in this may be grounds for me to find you guilty of treason."

A threat, and not a subtle one, either. What a woman. What a _remarkable_ woman.

"I'll have to be careful, then," he said, managing to keep a smile off his face but not out of his voice. "I'd hate to find myself the recipient of your full displeasure."

The Wrath grinned, showing pointed canines. "I'm sure you would."

"Don't waste my time with this," Marr grumbled from across the room.

"By all means," the Wrath said, her expression becoming serious again. "Let us return to discussing the war. If Ravage has the situation with the Chiss under control?"

"I've said that I do, haven't I?"

"Of course. Now, about the Seswenna sector…"


	30. Chapter 30

**Thirty**

 _Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

"I don't think I'll ever fully get used to the idea," Thaera remarked, skimming through the report displayed on her desk computer.

Leaning against the edge of the desk beside her, Vector Hyllus looked at her curiously. "What idea is that?"

"The abrupt and violent reorganization of a government institution. First Intelligence, and now the Diplomatic Service. Not quite on the same level, but still."

"The loss of life is regrettable," Vector said somberly. "But—we believe the Diplomatic Service may be better off, now. We've worked with the new Minister, albeit only briefly, but we respect her."

Thaera looked up. "You worked with Adrielle Verani?"

"As we said, only briefly. She was rarely in the Empire during our tenure in the Service. She spent many years in Chiss space, negotiating the Empire's alliance with your people."

"I know. I remember…" Thaera frowned off into the distance. "I was in charge of security when she met with some representatives from the Ruling Families. Extremists attempted to sabotage the proceedings, and I stopped them. Verani and I never met in person then, but it seems that's about to change. She's arranged a meeting with me…now, actually."

Vector started to move away from the desk. "We'll leave you to it, then."

"No, stay," she said quickly. "I've never dealt much with the Diplomatic Service. I could use your support."

He smiled and resumed his position at her side, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're happy to help."

Thaera reached up and laid a hand over his. Vector had stood by her, supported her through so many dark moments of her career, from her time as Cipher Nine to the present. One might even consider them to be romantically involved, though it was a small, quiet thing they had. No extravagant passion, no magnificent emotion to outshine a sun, no heated declarations of dedication until the end of time. It was just the two of them, and that was enough.

They moved apart as security pinged Thaera's comm to inform her that her appointment had arrived. A moment later, the door slid open, and the new Minister of Diplomacy walked in.

Adrielle Verani was a tall human woman who carried herself and her red uniform with as much unconcealed pride as a Sith would bear their traditional armor. She had dark brown skin and black hair arranged in an elegant coif around her sculpted face, which was arranged into an expression of polite attentiveness.

She moved across the floor with confidence, stopping less than a meter away from the desk. Thaera met her eyes, keeping her face blank, which wasn't difficult. The role of inscrutable spymaster had proven easy to affect.

"It's Seeker, isn't it? Adrielle Verani, Minister of Diplomacy." Verani gave a courteous nod. "And Vector Hyllus. I was hoping I might run into you sometime."

"Minister," Vector said, a small bow moving across Thaera's peripheral vision. "Congratulations on your appointment."

"Thank you. It's been a long time coming."

Thaera placed her hands on the desk in front of her, lacing her black-gloved fingers together. "You wanted to see me."

"Right to business, then," Verani murmured. "I'm sure you've heard about the Chiss Ascendancy's intention to break ties with the Empire."

"Naturally."

"Well. I'll be frank." Verani put one hand on her hip, relaxing her stance. "You're the head of Intelligence; I'm sure you know far better than I that the Empire is not faring well in this war."

"You're going to try to convince the Ascendancy to change its mind," Thaera broke in, sensing the beginning of a long speech.

"Yes. I've arranged things with my contacts in the Chiss government who will still speak to me. Now I need to have people cleared for the mission."

Thaera narrowed her eyes. "You didn't have to come to me for that."

"True, but I wanted to." Verani seemed to have no difficulty meeting her gaze directly; probably her years of experience dealing with Chiss. "Our two organizations have largely avoided one another in the past. I'm not sure that's a wise practice."

"Oh?"

"Diplomacy relies upon information just as much, if not more than the military. Given that Intelligence monopolizes that commodity—"

"As is our job," Thaera said sharply.

"Of course. I'm simply saying that it's in all of our best interests to cooperate more closely. That's why I wanted to meet you."

Thaera thought it over for a moment. "Your logic is sound. Say I agree to this…cooperation. I assume you came here to ask me for more than just an introduction."

Verani nodded. "I'd like to enlist the services of one of your people to act as an Intelligence liaison over the course of this mission."

"Our resources are stretched very thin. I'll see what I can do."

"All I ask is that you consider it," Verani said, smiling pleasantly. "The war must come first, of course. And…there was one more thing."

"I'm listening."

To Thaera's surprise, Verani motioned towards Vector. "I'm aware that Master Hyllus here is now considered Intelligence personnel, but I was hoping you might lend him to me for this task—if you're willing, of course, Vector."

Vector inclined his head. "We're honored that you would consider us—and we've always wanted to learn more about the Chiss." He looked at Thaera. "It's up to you, Seeker."

Hearing her title from him hurt, just a little bit. "I see no reason why not."

"Excellent." Verani's smile widened. "I'm very grateful."

"Now, about this Intelligence liaison you wanted."

"Yes? I previously worked with a Watcher Ninety on more than one occasion, but it's my understanding that she is…no longer with Intelligence."

Watcher Ninety had been with Verani during the incident Thaera had described to Vector earlier. She'd left out the part where, following her skilled handling of the saboteurs, the Watcher had personally recruited her into Imperial Intelligence.

Watcher Ninety had also hated the Sith, a bad trait for any Imperial, and when Intelligence had been dissolved, she had been among those who were summarily executed. Thaera couldn't imagine how Verani knew, but if there was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was that everyone of rank in the Empire had spies everywhere.

"Indeed," Thaera said softly. "However, given the circumstances, I believe it might be best if I join you myself."

Verani looked visibly surprised for a moment, though she quickly regained her composure. "I would certainly have no objection, if Intelligence can spare you."

"They'll survive without me. You need someone with a proper understanding of how the Ascendancy functions. You may have more experience than most humans, but for a situation this delicate, that won't be enough. You need me."

"As I said, I have no objection."

Thaera nodded slowly. "I can offer you one other thing, as well. I have an agent, recently graduated from her training, who has the unique distinction of also being a Sith. Her presence will give your mission legitimacy."

 _And because she's_ my _Sith_ , Thaera didn't say, _you don't have to worry about her making a mess._

"I understand," Verani said in a tone that suggested she knew exactly what couldn't be said. "I am in your debt."

"Don't worry about it," Thaera said blandly. "We all do what we can for the good of the Empire."

"So we do."

"I believe I've said everything I needed to, Minister. Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"

"Not at the moment. I'll be in touch." Verani gave a single, polite nod, then turned and left.

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Thaera let the grim frown that had been brewing in her mind appear on her face.

"That was…interesting," Vector commented.

"Very." Thaera tapped her computer. "I'd better call Byrd." She glanced over at him and tried to summon a smile, with marginal success. "It's been a while since we were on a mission together. Reminds me of the old days."

"Indeed," Vector said thoughtfully. "Chasing terrorists, deceiving the Republic. Things were simpler then."

"They were," Thaera agreed. "Sometimes I miss it."

Truth be told, she missed simplicity more than just "sometimes." But complication had a way of layering itself like rock strata until the past was just a deep-buried memory. There was, of course, no going back. No matter how much she wished she could. Even if she was, for the first time in more than ten years, about to go home.


	31. Chapter 31

**Thirty-One**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

A'tro was in a good mood.

The past few years had gone by without major incident. Her knowledge of the Sith Emperor's true nature, and her resolve to stand against him, continued remain secret. She had received few orders, instead being left to her own devices, and she had dedicated her efforts to the war—and a few, more personal matters.

The war. It could definitely be going better. The Republic was giving as good as it got, battling with a ruthlessness that was surely inspired by the fiery determination of their leader, Supreme Chancellor Saresh. Her final term was ending soon, but few believed that she would be content to truly relinquish power until the Empire had been eradicated. Something would need to be done about her.

But despite the state of the galaxy, A'tro remained in high spirits. The Emperor didn't know she intended to betray him. His representatives had even left her alone long enough for her to achieve something that could not be called a victory, not exactly, but she saw it as a triumph nonetheless.

She slipped into her apartment, high up on the Citadel, and prowled through the antechamber into the main room. There, sitting straight-backed on the sofa, was Malavai Quinn, the man A'tro loved as much as life itself. And next to him, curled up against his side, was a small girl with copper skin, black hair, and deep blue eyes.

She was already pushing herself off the sofa as A'tro entered the room. She paused a moment to steady herself as her feet hit the floor, then raced forward.

A'tro knelt down, her heart feeling as if it would split open from the force of the searing, radiant love pouring through her, and scooped her daughter into her arms.

Her victory. Her triumph.

To protect her child's future, A'tro was willing to tear the very stars from the sky. Weighed against the magnitude of the primal love blazing away within her, the Sith Emperor was nothing at all.

"Hello, Saryn," A'tro said, smiling and rising to her feet, carrying the little girl with her.

Saryn stared up at her for a moment, eyes wide. Her Sith blood ran strong in her veins, giving her a copper complexion a few shades lighter than her mother's. The beginnings of the distinctive Pureblood ridges that would develop into prominence with age were already visible on her cheeks and forehead. Only her blue eyes, which no truly pure Pureblood would have, gave away the human side of her parentage.

That would cause her grief later in life, Sith views on purity and lineage being what they were. But she would grow up to be strong. A'tro would make sure of that.

"Mama," Saryn said finally, her small face lighting up.

A'tro gave in to the temptation to hug her tightly against her armored chest. "I missed you, my little vine kitten," she murmured, stroking her silky black hair.

Quinn rose decorously from the sofa and approached, meeting A'tro's eyes over the top of Saryn's head. "I think she sensed your presence before you even made it through the door."

A'tro nodded. Even at the tender age of two and a half, Saryn's strength in the Force was discernible. Her intellect surpassed that of most children her age, as well—inheritance from her brilliant father, no doubt. Their little girl would grow up to be a mighty Sith Lord.

She had to survive to get there, however. Some Sith had enough scruples to abstain from murdering children, but there were plenty who did not. That made certain security measures necessary.

"Where's Jaesa gotten to?" A'tro asked.

With Quinn and herself needed on the front lines, the full-time task of raising and protecting Saryn had gone to the only other person A'tro trusted. It stung sometimes to know that her apprentice spent more time with her daughter than she did, but such sacrifices were necessary for the good of the Empire.

Knowing that didn't make it hurt any less.

"I told her to go home and rest," Quinn said dryly. "I don't think she gets much sleep."

A'tro looked down at Saryn. "Keeping Jaesa busy, are you?"

Saryn radiated innocence.

Quinn shook his head, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "How was the meeting?"

Some of A'tro's good humor vanished. "Not good. The Chiss Ascendancy is breaking ties with us."

"Ah," Quinn murmured. "'Not good' seems to be something of an understatement, then."

"Ravage says he's got it under control, but I'm skeptical." A'tro rolled her eyes. "Bloody man spent half the meeting staring at me like I was some sort of enticing window display."

Quinn's demeanor stiffened noticeably.

A'tro walked over to him, balancing Saryn on one hip, and stood on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Relax, Malavai. You're in no danger of losing my affections, and certainly not to someone like Ravage. He only focused on me because Nox wasn't there, anyway."

Quinn gave a small, sharp exhalation. "Far be it from me to understand the affairs of Sith Lords."

"Trust me, we don't understand it either." A'tro turned her attention to Saryn, who had begun steadily prodding the scar that ran across the right side of her face with one small finger. "That's a lightsaber scar, kitten. You'll learn more about those when you're older."

Saryn blinked, then smiled. "Lightsabers are pretty."

A'tro snickered. "Indeed they are. Not so much at that close range, but the point stands."

Saryn wriggled in her hold. "Mama, look."

She stretched out a hand towards the sofa. A large stuffed animal that A'tro hadn't noticed teetered into the air, then drifted towards them.

A'tro grabbed it before it could impact her face. "Very good!" she said, pride welling up within her. "You've been practicing."

Then she got a good look at the toy. "Is that a—"

"Her name is Teri!" Saryn declared. "Teri the terentatek." She pronounced the polysyllable with careful deliberateness.

A'tro raised a brow-ridge. "Did Jaesa get that for you?"

Saryn nodded. "She said grown-up terentateks are scary, but Teri is nice."

"Sweet stars," A'tro muttered.

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

"You can laugh when you've fought one," A'tro said indignantly. " _Without_ a lightsaber."

"Yes, dear," Quinn said patiently. "I hate to interrupt, but several dispatches arrived while you were gone. I believe they are of some import."

"It never ends," A'tro sighed. She squeezed Saryn tightly, then set her down on the floor. "Go play with Teri for a bit, all right?"

Saryn nodded and ran off, clutching the toy monster under one arm. It was almost as big as she was.

A'tro shook her head and followed Quinn into the comm room. "Such a bright little thing. She grows up more and more every time I see her."

"I was reading her Grand Moff Vaiken's biography before you arrived. She seemed quite interested."

A'tro stifled a giggle. "Good to teach her a proper appreciation for our military."

"Indeed." Quinn motioned to a table where a stack of datapads waited. "I set these here for you."

"Thank you." A'tro picked up the stack and shuffled through it. "Looks like standard briefings—wait, what's that?"

A small datachip had fallen out from the middle of the stack.

Quinn frowned. "I didn't notice that when they arrived."

A'tro picked up the chip and examined it. "This isn't standard Imperial technology. If I didn't know better…"

She inserted the chip into the holoterminal at the center of the room. Quinn moved to stand beside her, quietly putting an arm around her as the machine powered up, the projector flaring with blue light.

"I'd say it was a Republic chip," A'tro finished grimly as the light formed itself into the grainy holographic image of a woman dressed in Jedi robes.

"Hello, Darth A'tro," said K'saria Dhakar.

Every muscle in A'tro's body went rigid.

Quinn leaned forward. "A recorded message. This…is your sister?"

A'tro nodded.

"Don't bother trying to figure out how I got this to you," K'saria said. "Suffice it to say that the Republic has friends everywhere—even in the heart of the Empire." She smiled grimly.

"What does she want, I wonder?" Quinn mused.

A'tro's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Nothing good, I suspect."

"It's been a while since we last spoke," K'saria continued. "Since Telos. I've had time to think. The Jedi don't know I'm sending this; they wouldn't approve. But I think we should talk. I've attached coordinates for a remote location on Alderaan. Neutral territory. We won't be disturbed.

"I'll be waiting on the date and time listed with the coordinates. I hope you'll take me up on this offer. May the Force be with you."

The image froze as the recording ended.

"A trap," Quinn said immediately.

"Undoubtedly." A'tro looked over at him. "Which is why I have no intention of going to that meeting."

"Good," Quinn said firmly, his hold on her tightening. "You risk yourself enough in combat without putting yourself in dubious situations like this."

A'tro smiled. "I used to put myself in dubious situations all the time, remember?"

"I never liked it then, either."

"As always, I'm touched by your concern. Let's go find Saryn and make sure she hasn't gotten into trouble."


	32. Chapter 32

**Thirty-Two**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

"I'm not happy, Lynet," Darth Ravage said.

Lynet Vrine stood tall with her hands clasped neatly behind her back, her auburn hair hanging in a braid over one shoulder of her black Intelligence uniform. She met Ravage's gaze squarely, showing no sign of fear.

"I apologize, my lord," she said calmly. "I've done the best that I can."

Ravage scowled. "And you think that's good enough? You've had three damn years to work on this, and you're telling me that you found _nothing_?"

"Darth Nox is cunning, my lord. She has doubtless erased any data on her past that she does not wish to be known."

"I'm quite aware of how cunning she is," Ravage growled. "You're an Intelligence analyst. You're supposed to be able to find things people don't want found."

"I'm sorry, my lord. I'll keep looking."

"That's assuming I don't kill you where you stand."

Lynet raised her eyebrows slightly. "I don't believe Lady Vrine would appreciate that, my lord."

"I am a member of the Dark Council," Ravage snapped. "I'm well within my rights to kill anyone who fails me. My sister can still have more children. Perhaps another Sith, this time, instead of an anomaly like you."

Lynet flinched almost imperceptibly. "I—I did find one possible lead, my lord. It's not substantial, which is why I didn't mention it in my report."

Ravage crossed his arms. "I'll decide what's substantial and what's not. Show me what you have."

Lynet silently produced a small datapad from inside a pocket of her jacket and held it out.

Ravage walked over and took it, examining the screen. It showed an old-fashioned two-dimensional digital image of a woman standing in an elegant garden.

"I fail to see how this is relevant," he said.

Lynet took a deep breath. "This image was displayed a few years ago in an Alderaanian news broadcast—they prefer to use flat images rather than holograms. Something about the classic look." She shook her head. "The woman in the foreground is Countess Leraine Organa; the broadcast was commemorating the tenth anniversary of her death. If you'll look more closely at the image, my lord, in the background off to the left…"

Ravage frowned. There were two other women in the picture. Handmaidens of some sort, judging by their clothing. But one of them—

"I thought one of Organa's ladies in waiting bore a remarkable resemblance to Darth Nox," Lynet said. "I wasn't sure, however, and the image is too small for me to run a proper scan—"

"It's her," Ravage said.

It was unmistakable. The high cheekbones, long, narrow nose, mouth arranged into a mysterious half-smile discernible even in the small, indistinct image. He would know that face anywhere.

But what was she doing as the handmaiden to a Republic-allied Alderaanian noblewoman?

"I looked into it, my lord," Lynet said, "and the woman in question is identified as Katilya Mavess, a member of a middle-class Alderaanian family who worked as a domestic servant and was employed by House Organa for about six months up until the countess' death."

"And what happened to Katilya then?"

"Unknown, my lord. Leraine Organa's demise was officially ruled a suicide, but the circumstances were apparently suspicious, and a number of her household staff vanished around the same time."

"Politics," Ravage said absently, his mind racing. "Another reason why Alderaan really should ally with us; we have so much in common."

Was this Nox's true origin? Had her noble mistress fallen victim to a power play, and she had been sold into slavery in the Empire to keep her silent? Time spent among the Alderaanian nobility, even as a servant, would explain much: her cultivated elegance, her understanding of politics, her knowledge of history.

And yet something was missing. He could feel it.

"When is that image from?" he asked.

"About twelve years ago, my lord. Two months before Organa's death."

Ravage thought it over. The timeline matched up fairly well with the first documents he'd dug up listing the sale of a slave named Kyalah Vern to a lesser Imperial nobleman as part of a mass purchase of labor for his small, remote agriworld. Unfortunately, said nobleman had lost his life in an ill-advised political maneuver, so Ravage couldn't question him.

He would not be deterred, however. He would uncover the mystery of who Darth Nox really was and where she had come from. The woman had entirely too much power, these days. He needed every advantage he could find.

"You've done better than I thought, Lynet," Ravage said. "I'll even let you live."

"You are most gracious, my lord," Lynet murmured, bowing.

Ravage hoped she wouldn't tell her mother that he'd threatened her, or he'd never hear the end of it. This was what he got for involving family.

"If I require your assistance again, I will inform you. For the time being, return to your normal duties."

"Yes, my lord."

Ravage waved a hand. "You may go."

Lynet bowed again and left in a hurry. Ravage sat down behind his desk and began contemplating his next move.

* * *

 _Kaas City Spaceport, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

Minister Verani was bringing only a small party to the Ascendancy, a few trusted members of the Diplomatic Service. They arrived one at a time, gathering in a small cluster near the ship, giving Thaera a wide berth. She stood off to one side, near the entrance to the secluded hangar, and watched them all silently. Vector and Verani stood somewhere equidistant between them, talking softly.

A small part of Thaera was jealous; being a diplomat had always been important to Vector, and it was something that she had never been able to share with him. The arts of persuasion in which she had been trained were far less civil.

She pushed down the jealous feeling. It was ridiculous and unfounded, and she couldn't afford to let such nonsense distract her. Ascendancy politics were just as ruthless and cutthroat as those of the Empire; the only difference was the degree of subtlety. Thaera had left in no small part out of a desire to avoid such things, and now she was leaping straight back in.

Well, things would be different, now. _She_ was different, now. Would anyone back home even recognize her?

The door to the hangar opened, and Kettrien Byrd stepped inside.

Gone was the slightly timid, but earnest girl who had begun Intelligence training three years ago. In her place stood a woman who exuded confidence and assurance as she sauntered across the hangar towards Thaera.

She wore a dark purple jacket with long sleeves and a hem that ended halfway down her torso. Beneath, she sported a low-cut red garment that covered the rest of her midriff, followed by a tight black skirt that fell to her mid-thigh and black, high-heeled boots that laced up to a few inches below the skirt. Her blue-black hair fell in thick waves around her shoulders, and a small grin played over her full lips.

She carried a small suitcase in one hand. Thaera looked at it as she approached.

"That had better have a different change of clothes, Agent," she said as Kettrien stopped a meter away and saluted her smartly. "You're here as a Sith."

"Of course, sir," Kettrien said. "Thought I'd start off civilian just in case."

Thaera inclined her head. "I've seen the reports from your instructors; you were exemplary during your training. Your first field mission was also a success. By all accounts, you're proving to be quite the proficient operative. That's why you're here."

"That, and you needed a Sith who wouldn't ruin the negotiations in a fit of pique," Kettrien murmured wryly.

Thaera stifled a sigh. "Your instructors also reported that you have difficulty keeping your opinions to yourself."

Kettrien shrugged. "I know when to be honest and when to stay quiet. Don't worry."

"I worry that someday you'll misjudge those times, and get yourself killed."

"Well, right now is obviously a time to stay quiet, yes?"

"Correct," Thaera said coolly. "Do try to find some decorum."

"Don't _worry_ , sir." Kettrien grinned. "I'll switch from Agent Byrd to Sith Lord Byrd. It'll all be fine."

"Just stay in the background and let Verani and I handle the Chiss. We know what we're doing." _At least, I hope Verani knows what she's doing_. "You don't."

"Yessir." Kettrien's demeanor abruptly transitioned from cocky to serious. "I promise I won't be the one to kark it up, sir."

Thaera shook her head. "I'm holding you to that."

The last of the diplomats finally arrived, and the group boarded the ship. Thaera had a small cabin to herself, which was fine with her; it would take several days in hyperspace to travel to Ascendancy territory, and she would need all of that time to think and prepare herself. Hopefully, she wouldn't be needed for more than the occasional cultural explanation or reliable translation, but if complications arose, she would be ready.

The entire situation felt more like a trap than anything else. The Imperials were traveling to a location of the Ascendancy's choosing, with no idea as to who or what would be awaiting them there. They weren't going to Csilla; Thaera had her homeworld's coordinates memorized, even now, and they didn't match their destination. More likely they were being taken to a Defense Force warship.

In the interests of showing good faith, Verani had opted not to bring any military personnel apart from their pilot and copilot. If the Chiss wanted to hold them hostage, they would easily be able to do so. Thaera knew her way around a fight, and they had Kettrien, who had the advantage of the Force, but numbers were not in their favor.

Too many uncertainties. Thaera didn't like it.

She sat down on her bunk and began taking out her hidden knives one at a time, checking the edges of some and reapplying toxic compounds to others. Best to prepare for the worst, just in case.


	33. Chapter 33

**Thirty-Three**

 _Chiss Ascendancy Territory, Unknown Regions_

 _17 ATC_

As it turned out, Thaera's instincts had been correct. After several days' travel, the Imperial ship had emerged from hyperspace at the predesignated coordinates to find nothing but deep space and a single Chiss warship.

Thaera looked out the bridge viewport at the vessel, imposingly large compared to the one in which she stood, admiring its sleek lines and smooth contours. The design principles reminded her in some ways of her own X-70B Phantom, of which she had always been rather fond. So much more elegant than the gray and black wedges of Imperial destroyers.

Verani moved up next to her. "What a beautiful ship," she remarked softly. "I've always admired the Chiss' aesthetic sensibilities."

Thaera made a noncommittal noise.

"Truth be told," Verani continued, "I very much enjoyed my time as ambassador, even though it was supposed to be a dead-end posting in the middle of nowhere. My predecessor never properly appreciated what other species can bring to the Empire."

Thaera couldn't help but eye her curiously. "And you do?"

"I'd like to think so." A small, nasty smile played over Verani's lips. "I leaned on Darth Ravage for years to get this position. I intend to put it to good use."

"How remarkably candid of you, Minister."

"Ambition is a virtue in Imperial politics," Verani pointed out. "I see no reason to pretend that I've ever been anything else. Besides, honesty is the first step towards trust, and while I don't expect you to trust me, we do have to work together. Our relationship should therefore be, at the very least, functional."

Their ship's pilot, seated a short distance away, turned towards them. "Sir, the Chiss are hailing us."

"Excellent," Verani murmured. "Patch them in."

The pilot nodded and manipulated several controls on his console. A moment later, a lightly accented voice crackled through the comm system.

"—Defense Force destroyer _Tempest_ to unidentified Imperial vessel. State your business in Ascendancy space."

"This is Adrielle Verani, Minister of Diplomacy for the Sith Empire," Verani stated. "My party and I received an official invitation to meet with representatives of the Ruling Families."

"Confirmed," the Chiss replied after a moment of silence. "Docking instructions are being sent to your ship."

"Acknowledged and understood," Verani said.

"Do not attempt to deviate from your present course. Defense Force personnel will meet you on board. _Tempest_ out."

 _Anyone who calls Imperials terse and overly formal_ , Thaera thought, _has clearly never met_ my _people_.

Verani nodded towards her. "If you'll excuse me, I must go over a few last minute reminders." She turned and left the bridge.

Thaera watched the _Tempest_ grow larger in the viewport for a moment, then headed in the same direction Verani had gone. She found Kettrien leaning against the wall near the airlock, dressed in sleek black armor with a lightsaber hanging in plain view at her side.

"Hello, sir," Kettrien said as Thaera approached. "I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous."

"Fear of the unknown is natural. Control it, and you'll be fine."

"I suppose it always comes down to that, doesn't it? Funny how sentient beings work." Kettrien frowned off into the distance. "I was more curious—all right, apprehensive—about how people will respond to me, given that I'm a Sith. Chiss don't have Force-users, after all."

"That's not strictly true," Thaera said. "However, Force-sensitivity is far rarer among my species than yours, so it's not something our culture has any particular guidelines for. I wouldn't worry, though. I doubt you'll be treated any differently than the other humans."

"Why does that not make me feel reassured?" Kettrien muttered.

"Focus, Agent Byrd," Thaera said sharply.

"Yes, sir. Focusing now." Kettrien grinned. "You're so much sterner than my Sith master. Lord Savadar is a real softie, even with his fancy pureblood lineage going back oh-so-many generations."

Thaera was saved from having to respond to that particular tidbit by the arrival of Vector. He moved up next to Thaera as Kettrien glanced between the two of them, then skulked off.

"You seem tense," Vector said, soft enough that only she could hear.

Thaera frowned. "Is it noticeable?"

"Only to us. Are you all right?"

The ship lurched slightly, then stopped. The hum of the engines died away a moment later.

"We've docked," Thaera noted.

"You're avoiding our question. What's wrong?"

"Nothing important." She turned away from him as the airlock began clunking its way through the docking sequence. "You should be with the others."

Vector nodded once. "We're here if you want to talk," he said, clipped and polite, then walked away towards where Verani and her people were waiting by the airlock.

Thaera sighed faintly. Brushing him off like that wasn't the nicest thing she'd ever done, but she had no desire to talk about her worries. She wasn't even certain that she could voice them if she tried.

The airlock opened, and the party began filing out, led by Verani. Kettrien was a small shadow in her black armor behind them. Thaera hung back, apprehension a tightening noose around her heart.

 _I told Kettrien to control her nerves,_ she thought. _And now I can't follow my own advice. What is there to worry about? They won't see past the Imperial uniform._

Realizing that she was now the only one left on the ship, she walked quickly out into the hangar. A dozen Chiss soldiers in neat black uniforms stood in two parallel lines, between which the Imperials had sorted themselves into an orderly clump. Verani stood at the head of the group, engaged in quiet conversation with a Chiss whose uniform insignia indicated a rank roughly equivalent to an Imperial navy captain.

Thaera's eyes went to the subtle burgundy bars on his uniform, on the uniforms of all the Chiss around them, and her apprehension intensified by several orders of magnitude.

They were not on a Defense Force warship. Burgundy was the color of the Eighth Ruling Family, which had led the isolationist faction of the Chiss government for years. The fact that the Imperial diplomatic party had been taken to one of their ships was a very bad sign.

* * *

"I'm well aware of the implications," Verani said, eyeing the confines of the small cabin to which the Chiss soldiers had escorted her, and where Thaera had met her not long later. "Do you think this might turn into a hostage situation?"

"Doubtful," Thaera replied. "The isolationists live up to the name—they just want to be left alone. It's more likely that their delegates will meet with us, politely refuse anything we offer, and send us back to the Empire."

"That's not an acceptable outcome." Verani's mouth twisted subtly. "The Dark Council made that quite clear."

 _So it's succeed or die, then,_ Thaera reflected. Not unusual circumstances, for her. She noted how Verani's demeanor remained calm and composed. Perhaps it was not so unusual for her, either.

"The ship's captain was slightly more forthcoming than I would have expected," Verani said. "He informed me that the negotiations, such as they are, will take place here on this vessel."

"I suspected as much."

Verani sat down in a nearby chair, folding her hands together atop the table in front of it. "In the end, it all comes down to who is sitting at the bargaining table. The Chiss are a pragmatic people. Make a good enough offer, and even a skeptic can be swayed. It's how I managed our alliance in the first place."

"We're dealing with the most skeptical Family of them all, though," Thaera pointed out.

Verani's jaw tightened. "I will admit that my attempt to deal with the Eighth's Aristocra ten years ago did not…go well."

"I doubt this negotiation is even considered important enough to send her to meet with us," Thaera said. "The Families have made up their minds; this is all for the sake of courtesy. The Eighth will likely send a lesser member of the house. Probably a cousin."

"Someone who can potentially be reasoned with," Verani concluded. "This is our one chance."

"I'll leave you to prepare. In the meantime, I believe I'll try speaking to some of the crew, see what I can get from them. They're more likely to respond to me than to a human."

Verani nodded. "Good luck."

As Thaera left the room, she reflected that Verani probably needed luck more than she did. If the mission failed, the Dark Council would call for her execution, while Thaera was protected by Darth Nox's good graces for as long as she remained useful.

Those good graces would run out, eventually. Until they did, Thaera would continue to serve the Empire as best she could. She quickened her pace down the hallway and began dredging up long-buried memories of the culture into which she'd been born.


	34. Chapter 34

**Thirty-Four**

 _Chiss Expansionary Defense Force warship_ Tempest

 _17 ATC_

Verani had not been particularly surprised when one of the Chiss soldiers had taken her aside and quietly informed her that the Ascendancy representative would like to have a private meeting with her before the talks officially started. Such off-the-record conversations were where the real negotiations happened, when both parties could discuss matters free from their governments' watchful eyes.

So she let herself be escorted to a room that was barely three meters long and two meters wide, furnished solely with two chairs set facing one another. There were no viewports, and nothing to indicate what the room was normally used for. Verani took a seat in the chair facing the door, and her escort departed, leaving her alone to think.

This initial meeting would provide valuable insight into how the rest of the negotiations would go. Verani kept herself calm and composed in front of her subordinates, but deep down she couldn't help but be a bit nervous. The defining moment of her entire career was upon her, and if she failed…

It was best not to dwell on such things. She had confidence in her ability to succeed.

She waited. One didn't get far in her line of work without cultivating a degree of patience that a Jedi might envy. Now Jedi, those were frustrating. They were always so implacable, so fixated on the greater good. Verani preferred dealing with lesser politicians, the greedier the better. Promise them just enough power and wealth, and they'd sign over their planets to Imperial domination. Easy. No need to keep the promises when one was done.

The Chiss, however, were a difficult people to bargain with. In many ways, they were similar to the Empire, with their rigidly formal society and emphasis on family identity. In the end, the key had been to appeal to them as equals.

But not all Chiss saw the Empire as an equal. Many viewed Imperials in the same way that many Imperials viewed them: alien, therefore inferior. It was, in Verani's opinion, amusingly symmetrical.

The door opened. Verani immediately returned her focus to the present, looking up to see a pair of soldiers deferentially flanking a stately Chiss woman in formal garb.

They had only ever met once, but Verani recognized her right away.

Aristocra Mitth'elen'invari of the Eighth Ruling Family was tall, like most of her people. Her face was all delicate angles, her pale blue skin adding to the impression that she had been carved from a piece of glacial ice. Lines finely etched around her eyes and mouth and across her forehead bespoke a lifetime of stern expressions. Her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders, was more gray than black.

She looked down her long nose at Verani, then said something to her guards in musical Cheunh. The soldiers saluted and left.

And then it was just the two of them.

 _Not worried about me trying to assassinate her, I see,_ Verani noted. "Aristocra," she said, not even bothering to attempt pronouncing her name. She'd surely only get it wrong and cause offense. "It is a pleasure to once again make your acquaintance. Adrielle Verani, Imperial Diplomatic Service."

"I recall," Mitth'elen'invari said. Her voice was deep and quiet. A slight lilt colored her otherwise Imperial-accented Basic. She seated herself in the chair across from Verani, her posture perfectly straight, and folded her hands in her lap.

"I'm honored that you have chosen to attend these negotiations personally," Verani said.

"Flattery," Mitth'elen'invari remarked. Her full mouth twisted slightly. "Assurances will follow, to put me at ease. Then a little groveling, to establish the illusion of supplication. Your tactics have not changed, Adrielle Verani, and you will find them no more effective now than they were at our last meeting."

"I see we are speaking plainly, then," Verani said, decades of practice letting her speak calmly despite the tense knots rapidly tightening in her stomach.

"For now."

"If you're here to discourage me from going through with the talks, I will not back down."

"I do not expect you to. This is only a warning."

Verani narrowed her eyes. "A warning of what?"

"Your Empire's exploitation of the Ascendancy's people and resources is at an end," Mitth'elen'invari said flatly. "It has already been decided. These negotiations are a formality to appease the moderates within my government."

Verani stared at her in surprise for a moment; she had never expected such a blatant admission of the truth she had suspected from the beginning. "We shall see, Aristocra," she said finally. "We may yet change your mind."

"Perhaps," Mitth'elen'invari murmured. "But I think not. Good day." She rose to her feet and left the room as abruptly as she had entered.

The door closed behind her, and Verani sagged against the back of her chair. Despite her best efforts, a sense of resignation was beginning to well up within her.

 _No,_ she thought determinedly. She forced herself back upright, clenching her fists in her lap. _I won't let her walk all over me. I can still find a way to convince her. This isn't the same Empire that tried to negotiate with her ten years ago. I can use that._

She had stood and watched while Darth Ravage personally executed her predecessor. That would not be her fate. She would not allow it.

* * *

 _One week later_

The section of the Chiss ship where the Imperials had been confined by the polite suggestion not to wander had a small lounge with a viewport that covered half the outer wall. Situated as they were out towards the galactic rim, the view facing back towards the core seemed to show the entire galaxy in a dazzling array of stars. A dappled violet nebula was visible off to one side, somewhere fairly close by on a cosmic scale.

Kettrien Byrd stood before the viewport and took it all in. She had yet to find a starscape that didn't awe her with its magnificence, and this one was particularly spectacular. There were so many stars out there, spread across a distance too vast for her mind to really comprehend. And around those stars were planets, some barren, others inhabited, trillions of lives spread out before her in an exquisite tapestry of being.

A sense of her own personal insignificance weighed down upon her as she regarded the galaxy. In the end, no matter how strong in the Force she was, no matter how unique her status as a Sith agent was, she was just another one of the invisible multitude floating in the infinite night.

It was a comforting thought. As long as there were people more important than her, she got to worry less. Kettrien hated worrying.

Soft footsteps and a shift in the currents of the living Force alerted her to the fact that she had company a moment before she heard Vector Hyllus' soft voice.

"It's quite a view, isn't it?" he remarked, moving up next to her. He kept himself at a respectful distance; she was a Sith, after all, and if there was one thing Imperials had ingrained in them, it was how to observe the proprieties.

"I can't seem to get tired of looking at it," Kettrien agreed.

"Sometimes it seems as if the closer one ventures to the edge of the galaxy, the more wonders there are to behold."

"In the natural world, sure. Civilization has a bit of a knack for stamping those out." Kettrien looked away from the viewport and surveyed the sleek lines of the room around her. "But civilization itself can be pretty wondrous, I think."

"We're inclined to agree," Vector said thoughtfully. "There are so many societies out there, each with history and culture all their own. We joined the Diplomatic Service in hopes of learning about as many of them as we could."

Kettrien glanced over and saw the stars reflected in his solid black eyes, as if space had come inside the ship to rest in two small pools. She knew what Killik Joiners were, more or less, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd learned more than he'd bargained for.

She nearly asked him about it, but stopped herself at the last minute. It was probably best not to direct prying questions at a man who worked directly for Seeker.

Where was Seeker, anyway? Kettrien hadn't seen the woman in days. Probably off doing spymaster things. Whatever those were.

"The Empire is great and all," she said to avoid an awkward silence, "but Dromund Kaas is very, ahem, human. It was actually a bit of a shock when I first moved there."

Vector tilted his head very slightly to one side. "You are from elsewhere in the Empire, then?"

"Actually, I'm not _from_ the Empire at all," Kettrien admitted. Vector seemed like a nice guy, not the sort to get on her case about it. There was probably no harm in telling him.

Indeed, his only reaction was to regard her with increased curiosity. "Where are you from, if you don't mind our asking?"

"Nar Shaddaa." Kettrien laced her fingers together and stretched her arms out in front of her, gently cracking her knuckles. "Now _there's_ a place where you see a lot of interesting people. You just have to be careful not to get shot. Or stabbed. Or punted over the railing of a sky palace." She shook her head. "I told him not to bet against a Wookiee."

"It sounds as if you've led an interesting life."

Kettrien shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, I had fun, but it was also dangerous. Very dangerous. When I crossed paths with Lord Savadar, and he offered to train me as a Sith, I certainly wasn't about to say no. And now here I am, practically a proper Imperial. Learned to fake the accent and everything."

"Your skills of imitation are very impressive, then," Vector said. "You sound quite natural."

"It's a talent of mine," Kettrien drawled. "All part of the 'Sith but also spy' package."

Vector nodded. "We can see how such abilities would be useful."

"Speaking of useful, I hear the negotiations aren't going too well." An abrupt change of subject, to be sure, but she wanted to shift the topic of conversation away from herself. Thinking about such things for too long led her down paths of memory to things she really didn't want to recall.

"They are not," Vector said quietly, a small frown appearing on his face.

"It's been what, a standard week now? And nothing is happening." Kettrien shook her head.

"The Chiss Aristocra has thus far refused to compromise, no matter what is offered."

Kettrien frowned. "Why bother, then? If she's not willing to work with us, then she's not willing to work with us. We may as well stop wasting our time here."

"Diplomacy requires patience, Agent Byrd."

"Please, just call me Kettrien." At least he'd gone the Intelligence route rather than the Sith one. Being called _my lord_ every third word was incredibly annoying, which was why she pretended to be a civilian most of the time.

"Very well." Vector inclined his head. "As we were saying, these things require time. We have not yet been able to find a way to reach an accord with the Aristocra, but that does not mean a way does not exist."

"Maybe," Kettrien said dubiously. "I still get the sense that this isn't going to go anywhere."

"Perhaps not. We must be persistent, however."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that." Kettrien turned away from the viewport. "I'm going to go see if this place has anything to drink."


	35. Chapter 35

**Thirty-Five**

 _The Citadel, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

The invitation had listed no time other than "your earliest convenience," so A'tro had headed for Nox's chambers immediately.

There had been no details in the message about why Nox wanted to see her, but that was not particularly surprising. No, what was surprising was that Nox was back on Dromund Kaas, and A'tro hadn't yet heard about it. Requesting a meeting must have been one of the first things she'd done upon arriving.

As A'tro reached Nox's chambers, she found her Dashade warrior standing guard outside. That was unusual, and it made A'tro nervous even as the Dashade stepped aside and beckoned to her to enter. Something strange was going on. She could feel it.

Nox's antechamber was very similar to A'tro's, with a large glass-paneled wall overlooking the city, but the glass had been darkened to nearly complete opacity, as if to prevent anyone from looking in. A small astromech droid sat off to one side, emitting a low hum, probably to interfere with any listening devices. A'tro slowly made her way into the room, keeping her lightsabers within close reach.

Nox herself stood with her back to the window, a bright spot against the dark glass. She was wearing an emerald green dress, cut low to expose her shoulders and an expanse of pale bosom, close-fitting around her torso with a flowing skirt that pooled around her on the floor. An ornate collar of green stones the same color as the dress adorned her long neck. Her hair fell in waves around her bare shoulders, the black locks blending in with the tinted glass behind her.

She looked dressed for a party rather than a secret meeting, but A'tro had come to expect that sort of thing from her. What she had _not_ expected to see was Darth Marr, present and standing close enough to Nox to suggest that the two had been engaged in conversation.

Nox spoke first. "Lovely to see you, as always, my dear."

A'tro cautiously approached the two Sith Lords. "What's this all about, Nox?"

"The future of the Empire," Marr said softly.

"Ah," A'tro muttered. "One of _those_ meetings. I'm guessing something has happened to set this off."

"On the contrary," Nox drawled, "nothing has happened. Not yet. That's the whole point."

A'tro put her hands on her hips. "Are you going to explain properly, or will I have to drag it out of you one ambiguity at a time?"

"I'll explain in a moment." A hint of mischief curled Nox's customary half-smile. "Not everyone is here yet."

A'tro went down a mental list of people Nox might invite to a clandestine conference. It was very short. Unless… "Don't tell me you invited Ravage."

Nox shrugged one shoulder. "After the three of us, he _is_ the next most powerful member of the Council by a large margin, so yes, I did."

A'tro frowned incredulously. "Do you really expect him to show up?"

"He won't," Marr interjected.

Nox kept smiling. "We'll see. You may be surprised."

"I highly doubt that," A'tro said, shaking her head. "You may as well tell me what this is all about."

"If you insist." Nox folded her hands neatly together in front of her. "Intelligence sources in the Republic report that—"

A'tro felt the Force presence approaching an instant before the door opened, but she still turned around to watch Darth Ravage walk into the room.

 _I don't believe it,_ A'tro thought. _What in the Emperor's name did Nox_ tell _him?_

"I regret this already," Ravage said sourly, coming to a halt some distance away from the other Sith.

"Afraid?" Marr asked, his voice going soft and meaningful.

"Of what?" Ravage said scornfully. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on A'tro for a moment, then on Nox for a moment more. "I'm in no danger here."

"Believe me, Ravage," Marr murmured, "you are always in danger."

Nox glided forward, interposing herself halfway between them. "Gentlemen, I must ask for the sake of the Empire that any fighting be postponed until we have come to a decision. And then I'd like to watch."

A'tro suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"For the sake of the Empire," Marr said with noticeable reluctance.

Ravage only scowled.

Nox beamed. "Now, then. As I was about to say, Intelligence sources in the Republic recently presented me with a rather interesting report."

"Had Saresh assassinated yet?" Ravage broke in.

"Oh, dear me, no. She's far too useful to us alive." Nox's tone became brisk and businesslike, a startling change from her usual drawl. A'tro had only heard her speak like that on a few occasions. "Case in point: thanks to Saresh's continued escalation of the war, a significant number of Senators have become disenchanted with the stalemate, which seems unlikely to end any time soon. Their troops, money, and resources are being used in massive quantities with very little reward, and they and their worlds have grown tired of it. These Senators want peace, and they are willing to do whatever it takes to get it—including negotiating a truce with us."

There was a long silence.

A'tro spoke first. "What exactly are you proposing?"

Nox met her eyes. "I'm proposing that we take them up on it."

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," A'tro said grimly.

Marr sighed faintly. "This…may be necessary."

A'tro turned to stare at him. "You can't be serious."

"Marr is always serious, trust me," Ravage said. "And though it pains me to admit it, I'm inclined to agree."

 _Is this really happening?_ A'tro wondered. "I know the war could be going better, but surely we needn't resort to this."

"We resorted to a truce with the Republic once before," Ravage pointed out.

Marr sighed again. "I have spent much of the past five years on the front lines. I know the state of our forces. Unless something truly extraordinary occurs, the Empire is no longer in a position to win this war. We can only hope to survive it."

"We are _not_ losing," A'tro snapped. Anger blossomed, smoldering in her chest. "The only reason our forces are in their current state is because we continue to fight each other rather than the Republic! I have said this time and again, and I have been ignored—by our counterparts on the Council, by the rest of the Sith, by everyone who would pursue petty squabbles and wallow in a sea of Imperial blood instead of crushing our enemies!"

Her voice echoed through the room. She took a deep breath, clenching her fists at her sides. _Emotion is weakness_ , she reminded herself. _Maintain control._

"Sith fight one another. That's how it is," Ravage said flatly. "I will agree that involving the military in personal conflicts is a waste of resources. Fight your own battles, or be killed."

"But _Ravage,_ " Nox murmured dramatically, "that goes against Sith _tradition_."

Ravage ignored her.

"The Empire is slow to change," Marr said. "That is why I believe we need to seize this opportunity for a ceasefire."

A'tro pressed her lips together into a tight line, thinking hard. A truce with the Republic? She had been seventeen when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed, her dreams of going straight from the Korriban academy to crushing Jedi on the front lines snatched away in an instant. Years later, during her service to Darth Baras, she had relished the opportunity to be a part of the first strikes that reignited the conflict. War was all she had ever trained for, all she had ever wanted.

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the others were right. Peace would give the Empire a chance to recover, to stabilize volatile elements within the power structure and approach the future more unified than before. Without the Republic nipping at their heels, they could afford to turn on one another, weeding out those unwilling to follow the new order.

Peace would let A'tro stay on Dromund Kaas and raise her daughter. It was a sentimental thought, but also a practical one. Saryn needed her mother alive and present to guide her along the path to becoming a strong, disciplined Sith, the kind who would lead the Empire into a new golden age.

"Very well," she said finally. "I see your point. This…this is for the best."

"Of course, that's all assuming we can even make this work," Nox pointed out. "The Senators may change their minds, or be found out and arrested for treason—Saresh isn't exactly forgiving. And then we would have to convince the rest of the Council."

"They will fall in line," Marr said coolly, "or they will fall."

Ravage looked at A'tro. "What about the Emperor?"

She kept her face expressionless. "If he objects, I'm sure we'll know about it."

"Wonderful," Ravage muttered. "I always wanted to go down in history as part of a Dark Council that overstepped and got itself purged."

"Cheer up," Nox told him. "If the Emperor's Wrath is being so reasonable about this, I'm sure the Emperor himself will see the wisdom of this plan."

A pang of uncertainty ran through A'tro. She did her best to ignore it. "So we're decided, then?"

"I'm all for it," Nox said airily. "I lose _so_ many agents in wartime. I could use a chance to replace a few."

Ravage eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "If we can make this work…it would be useful."

"I do not make this decision lightly," Marr said. "But I believe it is the best option."

Nox reached up and twirled a lock of her hair around one finger. "Lovely. I'll have my people reach out to the Senators in question and let them know we're interested in talking. Now leave one at a time, at intervals, and do try to be discreet about it."

A'tro made the walk back to her apartment slowly, deep in thought. It seemed odd to her that Ravage and Marr had both acquiesced so quickly to the possibility of a truce with the Republic. Not only was it the first time she had ever seen the two of them agree on something, the thing in question was _peace_ , something to which both Sith normally seemed staunchly opposed.

Maybe Nox had blackmailed them both; as head of Sith Intelligence, she was certainly in a position to do so. Then again, Ravage and Marr had both been on the Dark Council when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed. The Empire had had the upper hand, then, but perhaps they both recognized that the time had come once more to stall the conflict.

It still made A'tro uncomfortable, but she had to acknowledge that the Imperial military was stretched thin. The Republic was not faring much better, and the Jedi Order had certainly sustained enough losses to—

A'tro stopped in mid-step. The Jedi.

K'saria.

 _I think we should talk_ , the message had said. Was her sister connected to the Republic faction that wanted peace? She would know the costs of fighting the Empire better than anyone. And she had always been pragmatic.

Having the support of the Jedi would make the Senate faction's bid for a truce much more legitimate. Meeting with K'saria could be a way to ensure that support.

A'tro resumed walking. The Dark Council would have to manage without her for a few days. It seemed she would be going to Alderaan after all.


	36. Chapter 36

**Thirty-Six**

 _Chiss Expansionary Defense Force warship_ Tempest

 _17 ATC_

The latest round of discussion was in full swing, so the bulk of the Chiss soldiers were positioned around the conference room. Thaera managed to make her way all the way to the Aristocra's quarters, located on the opposite side of the ship from where the Imperials were staying, without encountering anyone at all.

That was good, because she was wearing her black Intelligence uniform, and it would have been difficult to explain what she was doing in that area. She had worn it for a reason, however. She had to make the proper impression.

Thaera sliced the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside the Aristocra's cabin, closing and relocking the door behind her. It was a much larger room than the one she was staying in. The furniture was sparse, but elegant in the distinctive Chiss minimalist style. A small viewport on one wall gave a view of deep space.

A table with two chairs was set up against one wall. Thaera sat down in the chair facing the door and waited.

The negotiations were not going well. Verani, for all her famed prowess as a diplomat, was failing to make any sort of headway. Although Thaera had not said so, she was not surprised. Mitth'elen'invari had led the anti-Imperial faction within the Ascendancy government for years. Her staunch isolationist views had never wavered. Now that the Empire was starting to falter in the war against the Republic, it was inevitable that she would find enough support to attempt to break all ties.

As she sat and waited for the Aristocra to return from the talks, Thaera wondered why she bothered. She surely had no more hope of success than Verani. The Ascendancy's alliance with the Empire seemed destined to come to an end.

But she was going to try anyway. She had to.

She was reluctant to admit it, but she was glad that she would soon be returning to Dromund Kaas. The way the other Chiss looked at her and at the Imperial uniform she wore… To those loyal soldiers, she was a traitor to their species.

Even after a decade in the Empire, even knowing that she had left of her own accord, she couldn't entirely disagree with that.

Thaera waited, trying to keep her thoughts on the moment. It was some time before the door opened and the Aristocra walked in, alone.

She spotted Thaera immediately, and she froze in place, her eyes going wide. For a moment, Thaera thought she might call for the guards, but instead she keyed the door shut and walked forward slowly until she was less than two meters away.

Ten years had passed since Thaera had last seen her. Mitth'elen'invari, core name Theleni, had grown no softer with age. Indeed, the lines on her face had deepened, and her hair was starting to turn gray, a rare phenomenon among Chiss. Surprise was an odd expression on her face, which seemed made to show only sternness and disdain.

"I don't believe it," Theleni said softly in Cheunh. "It's really you. Mitth'aer'akuesa."

Thaera stiffened at the sound of her full name. "Can I even still be called that?" she asked, lapsing effortlessly into the Cheunh dialect unique to the upper echelons of the Eighth Ruling Family. "I thought you would have disowned me by now, Mother."

"I thought about it," Theleni admitted. "But I couldn't. You are still my daughter, even if you did desert our house for the Empire." Her lip curled on the last word. "I notice you're in uniform."

"I didn't want you to get the wrong idea and think I was coming back to the Ascendancy."

"Ah, I see." Theleni strode forward and seated herself in the chair across from Thaera. "You're here on behalf of the Imperials, then. To convince me to see 'reason,' as it were."

"Yes." Thaera's hands balled into fists in her lap almost of their own accord. "That's why I'm here."

"You're wasting your time. You and that Verani woman both. It's a shame, really—for a human, she is almost enjoyable to debate with. But in the end, there is nothing to debate."

"I had a feeling you would say that."

Theleni raised an eyebrow. "What, no argument? No attempt to convince me that cooperating with the Empire is more beneficial than harmful?"

"I've changed," Thaera said quietly.

"I suppose it's plain enough to see. I barely recognized you."

"It's been ten years. What did you expect?"

Theleni looked away. "To be honest, I don't know."

"You never expected to see me again," Thaera stated, calm and matter-of-fact. Her initial tension was fading. She had changed, and her mother hadn't. She could handle this.

Theleni turned to meet her eyes again. "No, I didn't. Once I saw that that woman from Imperial Intelligence had gotten through to you, I knew there was nothing I could say or do that would convince you to stay." She sighed. "I should have tried harder."

"Don't act like this was your fault," Thaera said sharply. "I chose this."

"Yes, and look at where it's gotten you!" Theleni snapped. "I heard what happened to Imperial Intelligence. You were lucky you weren't killed by the very people you swore to serve. All those years of complaining that you had no freedom to choose your own path in the Ascendancy, and you signed your life over to those who are within their rights to end it on a whim. Can you really sit there and honestly tell me that it's better? That you're happy?"

"Happiness is no longer a factor. I do what I have to."

" _Have_ to?" Theleni repeated, crimson eyes going wide with outrage. "You don't owe them anything. You never have. You're a _Chiss_. You belong here, not serving an Empire that hates and fears you."

"You don't understand."

"Clearly."

There was a long silence.

"When I first saw you," Theleni said softly, "I thought you might be here to kill me."

Thaera frowned. "What?"

"I know how the Empire operates. Eliminate all opposition. And I certainly qualify."

"Mother…" Thaera started, although she had no idea what she was going to say.

"It would have been a brilliant ploy, I must admit. Send my own daughter to assassinate me."

"Mother," Thaera said again, feeling no more certain of her words. "Did you really think that I would—that I could—"

Theleni stared her down. "I don't know. You said it yourself: you've changed. For all I knew, it was your idea."

Unease whispered down Thaera's spine. "How could you possibly think that?" she demanded, trying to burn away the uneasy feelings with anger. "I'm still me. I'm still a Chiss. Family is everything to me. I came here to talkto you, nothing more."

"I couldn't help but be suspicious," Theleni said grimly. "I may not like the Empire, but I would be a fool to ignore everything that happens in it. I know more than you think."

"Really." Thaera tried to remain calm, to pretend that she didn't know what was coming. Lying to herself, however, had never been something she was very good at.

"I know, for instance, that you are the head of Sith Intelligence."

She hadn't been expecting that. "That's classified information."

"Officially, perhaps, but almost everyone in your organization knows who you are, 'Seeker.'" Theleni said the word in Basic, the frown lines on her face intensifying as she spoke. "And some of them can be persuaded to talk. But that's not your only title."

 _No._ "You don't want to do this, Mother."

"Do what? Ask how my daughter managed to become associated with an individual who, as I understand it, was one of the most feared Sith in recent history? How my daughter is said to have cooperated with this Sith to carry out an attack that cost thousands of innocent people their lives?"

Thaera's hands clenched tighter in her lap. "You don't _understand_."

"It seems clear enough to me." Theleni shook her head. "You don't deny it. I had hoped you would. Not the answer I wanted."

Thaera's hands started to tremble. "I had to."

"You _had_ to be an accomplice in mass murder. Of course." Theleni's lip curled. "So this is what the Empire has made you. I suppose Darth Jadus gave an order, and you felt obligated to follow it, no matter what."

"I didn't want to," Thaera whispered.

Theleni arched an eyebrow. "Is that how you justify it to yourself? I'm sure most of the victims were only human, but that's still a war crime by any civilized definition of—"

Thaera's self-control shattered.

She was on her feet with no memory of rising, her hands slamming down on the tabletop. Theleni jerked backwards in her chair, fear rising on her face.

"I didn't want to do it," Thaera said, half-choking on the words. "I would have died before I gave up the command codes. I would never have—I never—" She gasped in a breath. "Jadus made me do it. The darkness was inside my head, and I couldn't—I couldn't fight him." She closed her eyes. "I couldn't stop myself from killing them."

She leaned heavily against the table. It was so hard to stay upright when the darkness was weighing her down. It receded a little each day since Jadus had vanished from the known galaxy, but it would never be gone. It was still there in the back of her mind. Waiting. She would never be free of it.

Never.

A soft touch on her shoulder broke through the fog of despair. Thaera opened her eyes to see her mother standing beside her.

"Thaera," Theleni said, "I apologize. I had no idea—"

"I don't need pity," Thaera interrupted. "And you shouldn't apologize."

"Very well," Theleni said stiffly, removing her hand from Thaera's shoulder. "If that's what you want."

She lowered her hand to her side, and Thaera noticed it was trembling. Looking upwards, she noted the set of her jaw, the tight line of her mouth, and realized that she was shaking with rage.

"What I do not understand," Theleni said slowly, "is why, after everything that's happened to you, you still came here to convince me to support the Empire."

Thaera swallowed hard, pushing herself away from the table to stand upright. "Because you have to."

"I _have_ to? After what you've told me, I'm more convinced than ever that the Ascendancy needs to stay as far away from the Empire as possible. Our people's history has had its dark moments, but the Sith are monstrous."

"They are," Thaera agreed. "And that's precisely why we have to stay allied with them."

Theleni put her hands on her hips. "Explain."

"The Sith are just a fraction of the Empire. A powerful, dangerous fraction, but still only a small piece. Most of the Imperial citizens are just people. Ordinary people, not so different from us, except for the fact that they live under the perpetual durasteel fist of the Sith."

"And?"

"And they _need_ us, Mother. They've never known anything other than the Empire. They need the Ascendancy to show them that a society can be great without the Sith. A society as advanced and orderly as their own, but where the people don't have to live in fear. We're the only ones who can show them that."

Theleni frowned, clearly thinking hard. "I will have to consider this."

"That's all I ask." Thaera started towards the door. "I should be getting back."

"I suppose…I will see you later, then." Theleni moved back over to her chair and sat down, turning her back.

"I suppose so," Thaera said, and left.


	37. Chapter 37

**Important Note:** With this chapter, this version of Afterimages is now caught up to the version I post on the SWTOR fanfic forum. As such, the rate of updates is going to become much slower. Until my schedule changes, I'll probably only have time to update every 2-3 weeks. Apologies.

* * *

 **Thirty-Seven**

 _Alderaan_

 _17 ATC_

Snow crunched under A'tro's boots as she made her way through the tall conifers, their deep green boughs frosted with white. It was early spring in Alderaan's northern hemisphere, but this high up in the mountains, winter still held sway. A'tro, who had grown up on Dromund Kaas, found the snowy forest to be a novel and beautiful sight.

Quinn walked beside her, silently surveying their surroundings. There was something nostalgic about the two of them traveling together into unknown territory with only the vaguest idea of what they would encounter when they got there. It had been a long time since they'd gone on a mission like that.

The last time A'tro had been on Alderaan was when she had hunted down Jaesa's family on Darth Baras' orders. She had left Jaesa behind on Dromund Kaas to watch over Saryn, and she had a feeling her apprentice was glad to be able to avoid returning to her homeworld. The past was a tricky thing, and A'tro could understand wanting to distance oneself from it.

It was a darkly amusing thought, given that she was on her way to meet her sister. The reminder soured A'tro's good mood. She drew on that anger, letting it strengthen her. She didn't think it would come to a fight, but if it did, she intended to be prepared.

"My lord," Quinn said quietly.

A'tro wasn't sure why he was using her title; who was going to overhear, the trees? Then again, this was Alderaan, where the noble houses had espionage down to an art form. Perhaps it was best to be cautious.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We are drawing close to the target coordinates. Do you have a plan of action?"

"I don't think we know enough to formulate anything solid. Just follow my lead."

"Always, my lord."

A'tro glanced over at him, a small smile appearing on her lips in spite of herself, but he was looking out into the trees and not at her. She forced the smile to fade and returned her attention to the walk.

The ground slanted sharply uphill for the next several meters, then plateaued as the trees gave way to a large clearing. A small stream, half-choked with slush, ran down one side. Footprints in the snow led from the far edge of the clearing to its center, where a figure in brown hooded robes knelt as still as a statue.

A'tro reached out with the Force, and recognized K'saria's presence. Steeling herself, she walked out of the woods and into the clearing, Quinn following cautiously a few steps behind her.

K'saria raised her head, pushing back her hood. Her black-dyed hair was starting to show red at the roots. She watched as A'tro stopped a few paces away, looking between her and Quinn.

"I'm here," A'tro said flatly. "Talk."

K'saria slowly rose to her feet, bits of snow clinging to her robes. "I would have expected you to come alone."

"You expected wrong."

"So I see." K'saria eyed Quinn with open curiosity. "Who's this, then? A loyal follower, one you clearly trust a great deal. Interesting."

"Concern yourself with me, not him."

"Of course." K'saria looked back at A'tro. "We didn't have much of a chance to talk on Telos."

"I seem to recall you spouting dogma and then trying to kill me."

"You attacked me first."

"You were an enemy combatant in the middle of a battle."

"I'm still your sister."

A'tro scowled.

"Besides," K'saria continued, "if you really didn't care, you wouldn't be here right now."

"You might be surprised," A'tro muttered.

K'saria sighed, her breath emerging as a cloud in the cold air. "Always so hostile. Did you really come all this way just to argue?"

"No, but I doubt you set this up solely for the purpose of a sisterly chat." A'tro shook her head. "The Jedi are hardly known for their support of familial relationships. Their teachings wouldn't lead you to want to reconnect with me. You're here for some other purpose."

"The Jedi and I…haven't always seen eye to eye," K'saria said after a prolonged hesitation. "What I'm doing now is not sanctioned by any stretch of the imagination."

"Your message said as much. So what do you want?"

"I want to know what happened to you after I left. How you ended up like this." K'saria made a sweeping gesture that seemed meant to indicate A'tro and all that she represented.

"An intelligence-gathering mission, then."

"If I wanted _intel_ on you, I would contact the SIS," K'saria said dismissively. "This is a personal matter for me. It's true that the Jedi aren't much for family, but they're not the only people I've spent time with these past years. You're my sister. I just want to have a civil conversation."

A'tro thought it over, trying to get a sense of her intentions through the Force. She couldn't detect any lies or hostility, but that did little to reassure her. K'saria had always been good at hiding things.

 _She could be making these overtures as a lead-up to discussing that potential treaty_ , A'tro reminded herself. _It could be to everyone's benefit if I cooperate for the time being._

She'd made greater sacrifices for the Empire. She would do what she had to.

"Very well," A'tro said. "I suppose you deserve that much. I'm not revealing any sensitive information, however."

K'saria looked at Quinn. "I had hoped we might talk alone."

"Fine." A'tro turned towards Quinn. "Wait for me out of earshot. This shouldn't take long."

He bowed silently and walked back the way they came, disappearing into the trees.

A'tro returned her attention to K'saria. "Now, then."

"Such remarkable devotion," K'saria remarked. "I've rarely sensed anything like it."

A'tro said nothing.

"I somehow doubt my curiosity on that subject will be assuaged any time soon." K'saria shrugged. "It's not important. What happened after I left?"

"I swore I'd kill you if I ever saw you again."

K'saria sighed quietly.

A'tro ignored her reaction and continued. "After that, I continued with my apprenticeship to Darth Evendre until I discovered that she wasn't really a 'fallen' Jedi at all, and had been reporting to the Republic the entire time."

K'saria's eyes went wide. "Evendre…was a Jedi?"

"Indeed. I discovered some rather damning evidence. Unfortunately, she caught me in the act of taking it. When I refused to join her in her treachery, we fought." For a moment, A'tro was very aware of the scar angling across her right eye. "I narrowly escaped. It was my word against a Darth's, so I went into hiding, and delivered the evidence to someone better placed to see it utilized: our aunt Ravinia."

"Wait. Evendre wanted you to join her? She tried to turn you to the light?" K'saria's veneer of serenity gave way to a frown.

"Yes. She thought I had potential in that regard." A'tro grimaced faintly. "If she wanted a Jedi apprentice, she picked the wrong twin."

"So it would seem," K'saria murmured, her frown deepening. "You didn't even consider it?"

"Why would I?" A'tro sneered. "I serve the Empire. That has always been my calling, and nothing short of death itself will lead me to abandon it."

"Of course you say that," K'saria said bitterly. "You were always the gifted one, apprenticed to a Darth straight out of the Academy. You've never had to struggle, to see the ugly truths that lie beneath the Empire's proud exterior."

"You sound angry. What happened to your Jedi calm?"

"I am notangry." K'saria took a deep breath. "I _am_ disappointed in your lack of vision."

"You think I've never known hardship? I faked my own death, changed my name, spent a year traveling from border outpost to border outpost, always afraid that someone would find me and take me back to be convicted of treason alongside my master. I know what fear feels like. But in the end, my power freed me." A'tro shook her head. "If the system failed you, K'saria, it was because you let it."

"I never had a choice!" K'saria snapped. "I am no weaker or less worthy than you, but you overshadowed me. The Republic accepted me, valued me, gave me a purpose. I've changed for the better. But I can see now with certainty that you have not."

The Force began to resonate with foreboding. "Is that why you asked me here? To see whether I was past redemption?"

"Yes."

In the blink of an eye, K'saria's lightsaber was in her hand, a blade bluer than Alderaan's sky blossoming to life at her side. A'tro had just enough time to draw her own weapons before K'saria closed the distance between them.

"You didn't try very hard," A'tro noted, keeping her tone casual even as she deflected K'saria's surprisingly ferocious attacks. "I think you came here determined to kill me no matter what I said. You hate me more than you realize."

K'saria's jaw clenched. "You are a threat to the Republic that needs to be removed. This isn't personal."

"Even you can't lie well enough for me to believe that." A'tro countered her attacks and riposted, going on the offensive. "What would the Jedi Council say if they knew about this? I doubt they'd approve."

"The Council lacks the resolve to do what's necessary."

"Oh, K'saria," A'tro said mockingly, "you're still such a Sith, even now. We have more in common than you think."

"I am _nothing_ like you."

"Perhaps you ought to reconsider." A'tro crashed her blades against K'saria's, locking them together. "Think about it. My Empire isn't the same as when you left. You might like it."

K'saria disengaged and leaped backwards, landing gracefully with her lightsaber outstretched. "No. Never again. I know where I stand now, and I have no regrets."

"Will you regret your death at my hands?" A'tro inquired, slowly advancing.

"There is no death. Only—"

"The Force, yes, yes." A'tro darted forward into melee range and swung. "Such hollow comfort that must bring."

"A Jedi does not need comfort," K'saria said, parrying. "Only the Sith fear death."

"Wrong." A'tro batted aside her counterattack. "I am not afraid to die for the Empire. I never have been."

"We'll see." K'saria raised her voice. "Now!"

Half a dozen Republic commandos charged out of the trees. A'tro cursed silently; they must have hung back, out of range of her Force senses, and waited until she was distracted to approach. Normally, they would not have posed much challenge, but with K'saria engaging her at the same time, the fight became trickier.

The commandos quickly flanked her and opened fire. A'tro rolled away from K'saria, dodging the initial volley and getting back on her feet in time to deflect the second. She directed the bolts towards K'saria, who blocked them easily.

"I won't waste my breath asking you to surrender," K'saria said. "Besides, it's better this way."

"Shut up," A'tro snapped. "You haven't won yet."

As if on cue, blasterfire rang out from the trees behind her, and one of the commandos fell to the ground, the snow turning red beneath him. A'tro glanced over her shoulder and saw Quinn direct several more shots at the startled Republic troops, then take cover behind the bole of a large pine as they returned fire.

That glance nearly cost her, as K'saria sprang forward like a vine cat spotting prey. A'tro blocked her attack at the last moment. With Quinn occupying the commandos' attention, she was able to retaliate with full force, driving K'saria several steps backward.

"Your servant is brave, but foolish," K'saria said. She was starting to sound slightly out of breath. "It's five against one. Will he die for you?"

"He won't have to."

Though her response was confident, A'tro knew full well that while Quinn had many talents, close combat was not among them. She had only a few moments to kill K'saria or injure her enough that she could take out the commandos before Quinn was overwhelmed.

Doubt filled her, fear trailing close behind it. She shouldn't have let him come with her. Never mind that he was the more expendable of the two of them by a considerable degree; she would much rather fight alone and outnumbered than be forced to watch him die—

 _Stop it!_ she told herself. _This isn't the first difficult fight we've faced together. We'll both survive this. We have to._

Detachment was out of reach. With nothing else left, A'tro fell back on her earliest teachings. Fear turned to anger in an instant, and she looked past the red and blue whirl of lightsabers at the face identical to her own. For the first time in years, she surrendered to hatred.

 _Peace is a lie._

She attacked with newfound ferocity, each blow sending K'saria staggering. She was no longer aware of the cold, of the commandos advancing steadily on Quinn's position. She no longer cared. There was only K'saria, standing before her like a distorted mirror showing the wrong reflection. A mirror that would soon be broken.

A'tro took a step forward, then another, and K'saria retreated. She caught every strike of A'tro's twin blades, but each successive parry was clearly starting to cost her. The white clouds of her breath came faster and faster, her assured demeanor beginning to crack.

Her defense wavered for just a moment. A'tro started to move to take advantage of the opening, but the Force whispered a sudden warning and she twisted away at the last second, bringing her blades up just in time to deflect a series of blaster bolts.

The impact jarred her out of her blind fury. The commandos were attacking her again. She backed away from K'saria, trying to keep them from circling her, and realized that they were now focused entirely on her rather than Quinn's position. There was no sign of him.

A chill ran down her spine. _No. He couldn't have— I would have felt it if he—_

She sensed a new presence in the Force an instant before a dark-clad figure launched itself into the glade, sending snow flying as it hit the ground hard.

"Hello there," said Elaedrin Myn.

A bright green lightsaber lit in her hand, and she cut down the nearest commando before he had time to react.

"Traitor!" K'saria hissed.

For a moment, it looked as if she might break off her attack and engage Elaedrin, but A'tro gave her no opportunity to do so, redoubling her efforts to break down her defense. Elaedrin waded into the middle of the commandos and began taking them down one by one.

"It doesn't matter how many of you there are," K'saria said resolutely. "I _will_ prevail."

"No, you won't," Elaedrin retorted, finishing off the last commando. "Look at you. Luring an enemy into a trap so you could kill them." She twirled her lightsaber, making no move to interfere in the duel. "Satele would be disappointed. Setia Aru would be disappointed, and it took a lot to disappoint her."

"You would know." K'saria's gaze darted between Elaedrin and A'tro even as she continued to fend off the latter's attacks. "You stood by and watched her die."

"Oh, I did more than that," Elaedrin said coolly. "The unexpected number of Imperial troops, the presence of a Dark Council member…all arranged by me. I was in contact with the Empire for weeks before I finally left you weak fools behind."

K'saria flinched. "You—no. No, I would have known. I would have realized."

Her guard faltered for a moment.

A'tro was on her in a heartbeat, knocking aside her blade as she started to raise it in an instinctive defense, and drove her right lightsaber to the hilt through her chest.

Golden eyes met.

"I failed," K'saria whispered. "K'hera…"

"You were wrong about me," A'tro said grimly. "Goodbye, sister."

Then she stabbed her with her other blade.

K'saria's lips moved, but no sound emerged. A'tro extinguished her lightsabers and let her crumble into the snow. She waited for some sense of loss in her mind; they were twins, after all, and Force-sensitive twins shared a bond like no other. But hatred had come between them too early in life, and all she felt was the usual brief resonance as K'saria's Force presence flickered, then faded away into nothingness.

Elaedrin stowed her lightsaber on her belt. "I never did like her. So hypocritical."

She wandered off into the trees for a moment, then re-emerged into the clearing supporting Quinn. He looked paler than usual, and he had one hand pressed against his side, mostly concealing a dark stain on his gray uniform.

He was alive. He was injured, but he was alive. A'tro breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she started walking towards them.

"Elaedrin, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I didn't expect to find any Imperials in this area."

"I was running an errand for my master." Elaedrin looked askance at Quinn as he pushed himself away from her to stand somewhat unsteadily on his own, then shrugged. "I happened to slice into local Republic communications, and I caught a mention of some sort of ambush for a high-ranking Sith Lord. Thought I'd stop by and help."

"Your assistance is appreciated," A'tro said stiffly.

"It was no trouble. As I said, I never liked K'saria. She deserved what she got."

A'tro nodded, then looked at Quinn. "You're injured."

"I'm fine, my lord," Quinn said. "I regret I couldn't be of more use in the fight."

"You're most useful to me alive." A'tro struggled to maintain her usual composure. "On that note, we should get you medical attention."

"Feel free to take my speeder," Elaedrin said. "I can walk back."

A'tro frowned suspiciously. "I'm going to owe your master for this, aren't I?"

"Not at all. Lord Ravage doesn't need to know every detail of my activities here. I'm just happy to assist the Emperor's Wrath however I can." Elaedrin smiled pleasantly.

"I see. I will remember your part in this nonetheless."

"That's very kind of you, my lord," Elaedrin murmured. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab a comlink from one of the bodies. Sending an all-clear signal will delay Republic discovery of what happened here."

She bowed politely and walked away. A'tro turned and headed in the opposite direction, Quinn following close behind her.

As soon as they were out of the glade and concealed by the trees, A'tro darted to Quinn and put an arm around him. He exhaled sharply, shifting to lean heavily against her. She had no difficulty supporting his weight; she could have easily carried him if necessary.

"Are you going to be all right?" she asked, not bothering to keep concern out of her voice.

"I'll be fine," Quinn said tightly. "Lord Myn's arrival gave me an opportunity to use my emergency medkit. I can make it back to the ship."

A'tro was not reassured. "This is my fault. I should have anticipated that K'saria would set a trap for me."

"Despite her efforts, you are alive, and she is not. This is a victory, for certain."

"You could have been killed!" A'tro protested. "I don't know what I would have done."

"I expect you would have carried on perfectly well without me."

"Malavai…"

"Lord Myn's speeder is right over there," Quinn said, lightly pushing A'tro in the appropriate direction. "I believe she offered us its use."

A'tro had nearly forgotten. It was a small, sleek model, designed for a single passenger, but she managed to get herself positioned with Quinn sitting behind her. The vehicle had been left in standby mode, and she was able to start it up without difficulty.

"It seems I owe Elaedrin quite the debt," she mused as she drove, going as fast as she thought she could manage while weaving between the trees. "Remind me to settle that as soon as possible."

Quinn's only response was a soft affirmative noise.

 _He's going to be fine_ , A'tro told herself, but she still drove faster.


	38. Chapter 38

**Thirty-Eight**

 _Chiss warship_ Tempest

 _17 ATC_

Under any other circumstances, Verani would have been annoyed to be interrupted in the middle of talks by a high-priority holocall. This time, however, she was grateful for the opportunity to get away from Mitth'elen'invari's icy red stare for a few moments. She made her excuses, ducked out of the conference room and into the nearest supply closet, and answered the call.

The projector in her handheld comm flickered as the encrypted connection was established, then produced a miniaturized image of Darth Ravage.

Verani's sense of relief vanished. _This is it. I took too long, the Chiss won't agree, and now he's going to strangle me via holo._

"What can I do for you, my lord?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice level as she fought to suppress panic.

"Verani," Ravage said, crossing his arms. "There has been a new development."

The panic came swarming back up to the surface, and she forced it down again. "A new development, my lord?"

 _Be reasonable_ , she told herself. Remote executions were not Ravage's style; he preferred a more personal touch. And if he were taking the time to call her, something very important was probably going on.

"This channel will only remain secure for a short time, so pay attention." Ravage sounded more irritated than usual. "Intelligence reports that elements within the Republic may be amenable to a peaceful resolution to the war. I need you to finish this business with the Chiss and return to Imperial space to prepare for this eventuality."

"Yes, my lord."

"Get to it, then. Ravage out."

The holo vanished. Verani slowly put away her comm, her mind already whirling with possibilities.

So, the Republic wanted peace—or at least, part of it did. After six years of bloody war that had accomplished very little for either side, that was not particularly surprising. What _was_ surprising was how willing Ravage appeared to be to go along with it. Perhaps the rest of the Dark Council had forced his hand, somehow.

As she made her way back to the conference room, Verani found that she was rather excited by the prospect. If all went well, she would have a chance to pit herself against the finest diplomatic minds of the Republic. It would all have to be very secret, of course, all done behind Saresh's back for the remainder of her term, but if enough of the Senate wanted peace, they might be able to ensure that a more moderate individual be elected after her. An individual who might be open to Imperial interests.

Verani forced her mind back to the present. There was no sense in speculating until she had succeeded in her impossible task of convincing the Chiss to remain with the Empire.

A thought occurred to her, and she focused on it even as she re-entered the conference room and traded niceties with Mitth'elen'invari. The Aristocra spoke often of the Chiss lives lost for the Empire's war. If peace were now on the table…

The information was no doubt highly classified, but Ravage had given her no orders to not speak of it. She could drop a few hints, make a few carefully phrased implications. Perhaps this was the bargaining chip she needed.

Verani took her seat at the conference table and began laying the groundwork.

* * *

Kettrien was starting to question the point of it all.

She'd gone all the way out to the Unknown Regions, and then proceeded to have absolutely nothing to do. She would have considered it a vacation, but warships weren't exactly the most relaxing of locales. The Chiss wouldn't talk to her because of the language barrier, the fact that she was human, or both. The diplomats wouldn't talk to her because she was a Sith, with the exception of Vector. But he had places to be and things to do and she didn't, and so she found herself alone and bored.

She made her way over to the lounge. Even deserted, it was a considerably more interesting place than her cabin. The view of space was just as beautiful as ever, and she took a moment to admire it.

But starscapes, no matter how spectacular, could only hold one's interest for so long. The lounge also had a bar, and while no one had told Kettrien that it was available for use, no one had told her that it wasn't, either.

Upon moving behind the crescent-shaped metal counter, she discovered a series of cupboards secured with old-fashioned mechanical locks. She took the nearest one in her hand, concentrated, and manipulated the tumblers with a few delicate touches of the Force. The lock sprang open.

 _I hope this doesn't cause a diplomatic incident_ , Kettrien thought, opening the cupboard and perusing the contents. There were bottles in all manner of shapes, sizes, and colors. All were neatly labeled in a flowing script that may as well have been blank for all she understood it. _But really, if they didn't want us coming in here, they surely would have said so…_

She chuckled softly to herself and picked up a tall, slim glass bottle half-full of acid green liquid. The cap unscrewed quite easily, and she took a tentative sniff of the contents. It smelled like dead shyrack.

"Okay, not that one," Kettrien muttered. Wrinkling her nose, she quickly replaced the cap and returned the bottle to the cupboard.

An opaque red bottle with a long neck caught her eye. She removed it from the cupboard, then ducked down behind the bar. Apparently, the Chiss saw fit to lock up their liquor but not their glassware. Selecting something with similar dimensions to the standard shot glass—some things were fairly universal across species—she stood up, set the glass down on the bar with a _clink_ , and popped out the bottle's stopper with a subtle touch of the Force.

She upended the bottle over the glass. A liquid as black as the empty void outside undulated out.

"That's…interesting," Kettrien muttered, lifting the glass and eyeing it dubiously. The black liquid seemed to absorb all incoming light. "I'm not sure I should drink this."

Then she shrugged and drank it anyway.

It was good. It was _damn_ good. It was so good, in fact, that she found herself downing the rest of the glass and pouring another before she quite realized what she was doing.

"Whoa, now," she mumbled. "Easy there, Kettrien. This isn't happy hour at the Slopes."

She started to set the glass down, then jumped in surprise as _Seeker_ of all people strode up behind the bar, reached into the cupboard, and grabbed a stout bottle of something bright blue. The contents of Kettrien's glass sloshed with her sudden movement, and she hastily finished setting it down before it could spill.

"Uh, hello sir," she blurted. "Fancy meeting you here?"

Seeker retrieved a glass from the cupboard under the bar, filled it with the bright blue liquid, and downed it all in one go. Kettrien stared.

"Agent Byrd," Seeker said coolly. She refilled her glass and drained it again, more slowly.

Apparently they were both going to pretend that they were not raiding a Chiss warship's liquor cabinet.

"So," Kettrien said, not wanting to let silence fall and make the situation even more bizarre and awkward. "How uh, how are the negotiations going?"

Seeker pressed her lips together tightly, her crimson eyes narrowing. "As well as can be expected." She poured herself a third glass of the blue stuff.

"Ah," Kettrien muttered. "So not well, then."

"Perhaps. There may yet be new developments." Seeker took a long, slow drink.

Kettrien looked back and forth from her glass to Seeker several times. One did not drink with one's boss in the Empire, especially when said boss was the head of one of the galaxy's most infamous intelligence organizations. Then again, Seeker didn't seem to be giving the proprieties much concern at that moment. In fact, this was the most blasé that Kettrien had ever seen her.

 _Or maybe_ , she thought, looking at her glass of black liquor, _this is all a dream, and I'm really just passed out on the floor. In that case...may as well live a little._

She picked up the glass and took a sip. It went down silky smooth and left an aftertaste of spices and something vaguely floral. Delicious. Maybe she could smuggle the bottle back to the Empire.

"Do you have any family, Byrd?" Seeker asked abruptly.

Kettrien raised an eyebrow. "I thought that was in my file."

Seeker closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again, and Kettrien got the sense she was staring at a point somewhere beyond her. "Refresh my memory."

"No family, sir." Kettrien frowned into her glass. A distinct tingling was starting to build up in the back of her skull. "Not for a long time."

"I see. No loose ends, then." Seeker took a drink, then shook her head. "I apologize. That was overly callous."

"It's fine," Kettrien assured her, perhaps too quickly. She wasn't sure where the conversation was going, but she didn't think she'd like it.

Seeker finished her drink and muttered something in the Chiss language, then set her glass down on the bar. "I believe we'll be leaving soon," she said in Basic. "Be ready."

She started to walk away, then paused. "Oh, and don't drink too much of that—" Several euphonious syllables followed. Kettrien doubted she could replicate any of them. "I believe one of the ingredients is toxic to humans in sufficient quantity."

With that, she left the room, and Kettrien was once again alone with her thoughts and a Chiss liquor cabinet.

She looked at her glass. There was a good amount left; it seemed a shame to waste it. The tingling sensation in the back of her head was getting stronger, though. Inebriation, or a reaction to whatever the stuff was made of?

Well, she hadn't learned how to use the Force to purge toxins from her system just so she could play things safe. Kettrien raised her glass towards the stars outside, then downed the contents.

* * *

"I agree to your terms," Mitth'elen'invari said gravely.

For a moment, Verani thought she'd misheard. "You do? I mean, of course you do. I'm pleased we could come to a satisfactory arrangement."

Mitth'elen'invari smiled a small, secretive smile that did nothing to make her face less cold. "I still have my concerns. But I've been convinced that this agreement will ultimately be in the Ascendancy's best interest."

 _Convinced_ , Verani thought. _Not by me, surely. Seeker, perhaps? I haven't seen her in quite some time…_ "I assure you, Aristocra, the Empire will do its best to ensure that you have no cause to regret your decision."

"I'm sure you will."

"Then all that remains is the formal signing of the amended treaty." Verani tried to maintain her usual aplomb. It was difficult; relief was making her lightheaded. She wasn't going to be executed.

"Correct. I assume you wish to have that settled as soon as possible?"

"Yes—if it is convenient to you, of course."

"It is."

"If you wish any drastic alterations to the original terms," Verani pointed out, "that will require more time to negotiate."

"That won't be necessary."

"Very well, then." Verani picked up her datapad from where it lay atop the conference table. "I can put together the document right now, if you like."

"Do so." Mitth'elen'invari's smile faded. "I would like to be finished with this business."

 _That makes two of us_. "I'll only need a few minutes." Verani started opening documents. "And so the Chiss stay with the Empire."

Mitth'elen'invari turned to look out the viewport at the distant stars and did not answer.

* * *

 _The next day_

Once word of the agreement got out, the Imperial party made its preparations to leave the _Tempest_ with a speed that might have seemed impolite had the Chiss not been eager to see them go. Thaera found her mother in her quarters.

"I suppose you've come to say goodbye," Theleni said without preamble.

"Would you rather I didn't?" Thaera asked, and immediately regretted it when Theleni's expression darkened.

"Of course not. Despite our disagreements, you are still my daughter. I love you."

Thaera tried to return the sentiment, but she couldn't quite get the words out. She looked at the floor.

"You don't have to go back, you know," Theleni continued.

Thaera lifted her head, frowning in confusion. She hadn't expected this. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have to go back to the Empire," Theleni said quietly. "You can come home."

"I'm the head of Sith Intelligence. I can't just leave."

"But you could. You know how to make yourself disappear, if you wanted."

A shiver ran down Thaera's spine. Somewhere, locked away in the most hidden depths of the Intelligence Archives, was the Black Codex. She didn't have access to it. She wasn't sure if even Darth Nox had access; the Codex had gone to Darth Jadus' servants, and they had been the ones to arrange its security. The second-worst crime she'd committed.

But if she found a way to reach it…

 _No._

"I can't," Thaera said firmly. "I won't. I have already made my choices, and it is far too late to turn back. I'm staying in the Empire."

"Fine." Theleni sighed. "I didn't really think I would convince you, but I had to try. I suppose I'll never see you again, then."

"Probably not."

Theleni nodded once. "Is there any message you would like conveyed to your siblings? I know your brother in particular has always regretted not having a chance to say goodbye before you left the Ascendancy."

Thaera stood straight and still, clasping her hands together behind her back. "Don't tell them anything. Don't even tell them you saw me." She took a deep breath. "It's better this way. For all of us."

Theleni's eyes were as cold and hard as rubies. "As you wish. Goodbye, Thaera."

"Goodbye, Mother."

Thaera turned quickly and left. An icy dagger seemed to have been driven through her chest, making every breath and every step agony, but she kept walking until she was aboard the Imperial shuttle. There, no one spoke to her. Even Vector kept his distance, perhaps sensing her dark mood.

She sat in the cargo hold behind a stack of crates and listened to the shuttle's engines rumble a solemn harmony to the quieter thunder of her heartbeat. There was no place for her in the Ascendancy, not anymore. The Empire needed her, a knife to command its other knives. Someone to stand between the Sith and the people who kept their Empire running like the machine it was.

That was her duty, and for the time being, it was enough.


	39. Chapter 39

**Note:** Sorry progress has been slow. Life gets in the way sometimes. Updates _should_ be more frequent for the foreseeable future.

* * *

 **Thirty-Nine**

 _Kaas City, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

Ravage couldn't quite figure out what exactly it was, but there was something aggressively likeable about Elaedrin Myn.

When she walked into his audience chamber, she bowed low, then straightened and looked him calmly in the eye. Respectful without groveling. That was one point in her favor; Ravage hated groveling.

"I'm happy to report that my mission on Alderaan was a success, my lord," Elaedrin said.

Ravage's mood improved considerably. She got results every time, which was more than he could say for most of the other people who served him. "And?"

"Well, I did some digging. A lot of digging, actually." Elaedrin clasped her hands together in front of her. "I found my way into the Organa estate where Countess Leraine used to live and made a few inquiries."

"How did you manage that?"

"Oh, I dug out my old Jedi robes and strolled right in. No one thought anything of it." She smiled smugly.

She had the proper attitude, she was consistently competent, and she was young, blonde, and pretty. The perfect apprentice. Ravage reflected that he really ought to make her a Lord, and soon. "Tell me what you learned, then."

"Very well, my lord. This Katilya Mavess woman you wanted me to investigate started working for the Organas about six months before the countess' death, and she disappeared immediately after."

"I knew that much already."

"Ah, but there's more. You see, Leraine was found dead on the ground under a balcony several stories up, and I found a former member of the household staff who swears that he saw Katilya follow Leraine onto that very balcony just a few minutes before. And nobody saw Katilya again after that."

Ravage frowned, wheels starting to turn in his head. "Are you certain this testimony is accurate?"

"The man was adamant, and I didn't sense any deception from him."

"So Katilya Mavess murdered Leraine Organa," Ravage mused. "But why?"

"Well, with Leraine dead, her husband took over her estates. He was big on Alderaanian independence, apparently, and he refused to allow the Republic to move troops across his land. Very inconvenient for them—but advantageous for the Empire. That made me start to wonder."

"You suspect the Empire had a hand in this?"

"I do, my lord. I think Katilya was hired by the Empire to assassinate Leraine. After that, it seems she just disappeared." Elaedrin shrugged. "Maybe the Empire had her killed, too. Loose ends and all that."

"Perhaps," Ravage said to maintain appearances. His mind raced. Katilya didn't die; she became Darth Nox. He was certain of it. But how? There were still pieces missing. "I don't suppose you found any evidence to support this theory of Imperial involvement."

"Oh, I did." Elaedrin smirked. "I found _plenty_."

Ravage scowled when she paused dramatically. "Don't waste my time with theatrics."

"Sorry, my lord." Elaedrin ducked her head. "Uh, right to the point then. Yes. After I made those inquiries about Katilya, I got a holocall. No image, voice disguised, but they claimed to be an Imperial who'd been involved with the assassination. Said for enough credits, they'd tell me more. I set up a meeting here in Kaas City for…let's see, that would be three days from now."

" _Very_ interesting," Ravage murmured. "You've performed outstandingly, Elaedrin. I am most pleased."

"Happy to do my part," she said smoothly. "I should have more information after I meet with—well, whoever it turns out to be."

"Yes, about that." Ravage considered for a moment, then made a quick decision. "I have more important matters for you to attend to during that time. Give me the details of this meeting, and I'll arrange something."

He was close to the truth. He could feel it. This was no longer a matter that could be trusted to apprentices, even ones as capable as Elaedrin. This was something he had to deal with himself.

And once he found out the truth about Nox's past, then he would have power over her…

* * *

 _Dark Council Chamber, Korriban_

 _17 ATC_

Darth Pherebus had never expected to stand in the chamber of the Dark Council and be told that one of the twelve great seats lining either side of the room was now hers.

She was a researcher, not a warrior. An academic with no interest in politics. And she was an alien, a Zabrak whose family had served the Empire for generations. Always of their own accord, not as slaves, but that made little difference to the conservative sensibilities of the Imperial elite. She had ambition—she had fought and schemed her way to a Darth title, after all—but the Dark Council had never been within her sights. That highest of heights to which a Sith could rise had always seemed beyond her reach.

Yet there she stood.

"My lords," Pherebus said, "I am honored that you have chosen to bestow this position upon me. I shall do my best to live up to the example of the Dark Lords who have gone before me."

She paused, looking around the chamber. No one seemed to be paying much attention.

Darth Marr's mask was turned towards Darth Ravage, who was frowning thoughtfully at the floor. Darth Acina looked bored by the proceedings, but her eyes were darting from one Sith Lord to the next. Darth Mortis had the air of a man who had just stepped in a sleen trap. Darth Rictus sat apart from the others, watching.

Pherebus' stomach tightened with unease. She knew her history. To have so many members of the Dark Council gathered together in person could mean a number of things, but none of them were good. Most were violent.

If she were about to witness one of the Council's notorious upheavals, she certainly didn't want to do it from the center floor. She inclined her head respectfully, trying to include the whole room in the gesture, and hastily moved to take her seat.

The moment she sat down, Darth Mortis stood. "I assume we're finished here?"

"Sit down, Mortis," Marr said coolly. "We have another matter to discuss."

Mortis remained on his feet. "I was unaware of anything on the agenda besides the appointment of our newest member."

"You seem very eager to leave," Ravage noted. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Mortis frowned. "There is a war on, in case you've forgotten. I have a great many things to attend to, and I do not care to have my time wasted here."

"Don't worry," Ravage said softly. "This won't take long."

As if on cue, the door to the Council chamber opened.

"Oh," said Darth Nox. "It seems I'm late. My apologies."

Pherebus sucked in a breath.

Nox glided forward, her feet invisible beneath the floor-length hem of her red shimmersilk dress. Her hair was done up behind her head in an elaborate braided coil, leaving her neck and shoulders bare above her dress' low neckline. Watching her, Pherebus did her best to suppress the corrosive envy that surged in her chest. Not so much because of Nox's sophisticated appearance, though it did make her feel quite plain by comparison, but because of what Nox represented: power.

Pherebus could have done so much with the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. The libraries, the artifacts, the whole Reclamation Service at her disposal…imagining all those resources made her giddy. But Ancient Knowledge was firmly within Nox's grasp, and Pherebus had to be content with the Sphere of Sith Philosophy.

"What kept you?" Ravage demanded.

Nox smiled languidly. "I couldn't decide what to wear."

"If she dressed like a proper Sith…" Acina's whisper was clearly meant to carry.

"And you look lovely today, Acina," Nox said sweetly, strolling across the floor to take her seat beside Darth Marr. "Have you done something different with your hair? It's quite flattering."

"You're too kind," Acina said through gritted teeth.

 _With so many forceful personalities mixed together_ , Pherebus thought, _it's a wonder the Council gets anything done._

"I know, darling. I know." Nox folded her hands in her lap. "Shall we, then?"

Mortis slowly sat back down. "Yes, I'm interested to know the nature of this secret business."

"It is simple," Marr said. "Elements within the Republic Senate have reached out to us to ask for a ceasefire. We have agreed."

Pherebus' eyes widened. The war had dragged on for many years with no real progress on either side. It was no wonder that the Republic was growing tired of it. She would never have expected the Empire to agree, however.

Acina stiffened. "The Council was not informed of this."

Looking around the room, Pherebus saw similar expressions of surprise on Rictus and Mortis. Nox was as unruffled as always, and Ravage wore a small, grim smile.

They must have planned it, then. Nox, Ravage, and Marr working together, an unexpected triumvirate given Ravage and Marr's well-known dislike for one another. Going behind the Council's back to make a move that would affect the future of the entire galaxy.

"You have a great deal of nerve, Marr," Rictus said. "And you overestimate your influence. I, for one, do not agree to this."

"I know my influence well enough," Marr retorted. "And I know this Council. The agreement was made without your knowledge because you insist upon bickering and fighting amongst yourselves while Imperial worlds burn."

"So superior," Acina sneered. "So self-righteous. Do you think us children who cannot be trusted with our own power? Every one of us has fought for this. We have earned this. I am a Dark Lord of the Sith, and I will not be bullied into submission to make peace with our enemies."

"It's only a ceasefire," Nox drawled. "We're hardly inviting Saresh and Shan over for tea."

Acina turned to glare at her. "And I suppose you support this nonsense, do you?"

"Of course," Nox said loftily. "It's the only sensible thing to do."

"As if you'd know anything about sense," Acina scoffed.

Rictus cut in. "Ravage, you've been awfully quiet."

Ravage shrugged. "I've been enjoying the show."

"You don't seriously support this," Rictus said incredulously. "A ceasefire."

"If it's ceasefire or defeat, I daresay I know which I'm choosing." Ravage crossed his arms. "The Treaty of Coruscant gave us an opportunity to gather our strength, gain the advantage—an advantage that we _spectacularly_ squandered on each other. I suggest we do better this time."

"See? Even Ravage agrees this is the right thing to do." Nox chuckled. "So, we have three for and two against. Not that it matters, given that the agreement's already been made, but I do love playing at democracy. Mortis, your vote?"

Mortis shook his head. "I cannot condone this course of action."

"Tsk, tsk, and here I thought you had some sense." Nox sighed dramatically. "That's three and three. It seems the balance will be tipped by our newest colleague. Pherebus?"

Pherebus stiffened as everyone turned to look at her. Was this why she'd been appointed? To give a sham of a consensus?

There was only one logical choice to make, for the sake of both the Empire and her own continued survival. She had only just joined the Dark Council, and she would be damned if she picked the wrong side now.

"I agree with the ceasefire," she said. "The advantages far outweigh the shortcomings."

Nox's smile turned predatory. "It seems the rest of you have been outvoted. Such a shame."

Acina shook her head. "This is lunacy. You say you wish to avoid dividing the Empire, but that is precisely what you have just done. Or do you think that we will simply roll over and do your bidding like trained tuk'ata?"

"The Treaty of Coruscant was made in accordance with the Emperor's wishes," Mortis said. "I cannot help but notice that his Wrath is conspicuously absent."

"I suspect she has better things to do than bandy words with fools," Ravage said acidly.

"Besides," Nox said, "if the Emperor didn't trust us to do what's best for his Empire, we would hardly be here, now would we?"

A tense silence fell.

Pherebus watched the other Sith and found herself wondering if she could get away with discreetly taking a few notes. Recorded data was the most reliable data, and there was so much to analyze.

Mortis was the first to break the silence. "Very well. If the Empire has already been set upon this course, then it would be foolish to oppose it."

"My thoughts as well," Rictus said.

Marr nodded once. "Acina?"

Acina hesitated for a long moment, tapping her fingertips against the arm of her chair. At last, she said, "Fine."

"Then there is nothing more to discuss," Marr said. "The details of our next course of action will be discussed next time we meet."

Acina was the first to leave, stalking over to the door with indignation apparent in every step. Mortis and Rictus followed, engaged in conversation too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"And to think, we didn't even have to kill any of them," Nox murmured.

"I'm a little disappointed, honestly," Ravage said. He frowned at Nox. "Where _were_ you? You almost missed everything."

"Like I said: choosing an outfit." Nox smoothed her skirt. "I like this red one, but then I thought it seemed a bit too flashy for such a serious occasion. So then I was looking through my black dresses, but I only wear black when I'm planning on killing someone and that wasn't really the ideal outcome here…"

Marr left the chamber. Pherebus fidgeted, trying to determine how long would be prudent to wait before doing the same.

"…and then once I finally decided on the red dress, I had to do my hair," Nox continued with no sign of stopping. "I mean, it looks so lovely down, especially with the neckline on this dress, but I thought maybe I should put it out of my face just in case I did end up having to fight, and it takes ever so long to braid it and pin it up like thi—"

" _Nox_ ," Ravage interrupted exasperatedly.

She tittered. "Am I boring you, dear?"

Pherebus decided that she'd been there long enough. Filing away her mental notes, she rose and quickly left the chamber.

"Never mind that," Ravage said as Pherebus walked out. "Where is the Wrath? I thought she was going to be here."

All humor left Nox's voice as she spoke. "Some sort of business for the Emperor, I think. I doubt we want to know."

In spite of herself, Pherebus shivered.


	40. Chapter 40

**Forty**

 _Kaas City, Dromund Kaas_

 _17 ATC_

As he found himself at the mouth of a dark alley in one of Kaas City's shadier areas, Darth Ravage took a moment to pause and question his sanity. Was he really going to go through with this? Would he chase Nox's past to the ends of the galaxy itself if necessary?

It appeared he would.

 _You're obsessed,_ whispered the small voice of reason in the back of his head. He ignored it. This was necessary. Nox was planning something, he was certain of it. And if he understood who she was and where she had come from, then he might have some insight into the nature of that plan.

With this rationale firmly in mind, he took a quick look around to make sure he wasn't being watched or followed, then strode purposefully into the alley. He'd worn a hooded cloak to maintain a degree of anonymity—it was not exactly commonplace to see a Dark Council member traipsing about the city in the middle of the night—and he made sure that the hood was concealing his face.

There was someone waiting at the end of the alley. He could sense them.

Their presence lacked the telltale luster of a Force-sensitive, but Ravage remained wary. The possibility that this entire business was a trap had been present in the back of his mind from the moment Elaedrin had told him about the meeting. She seemed loyal, but she'd shown her capacity for betrayal when she abandoned the Jedi. She could just as easily turn on him.

He reached the end of the alley and stopped, discreetly putting a hand on his lightsaber. The presence he had been sensing belonged to a figure shrouded from head to toe in a dark cloak, scarcely visible in the gloom; the alley was a slot between two tall buildings that ended against a third, and the city lights did not illuminate far into it.

Ravage looked at the figure. The figure shifted, presumably looking at him.

And then its presence in the Force changed, blossoming like a datura flower in the moonlight, the dim light of a Forceblind giving way to a terribly familiar well of stygian power.

"I admit," Darth Nox said, drawing back her hood, "I was not expecting _you_."

Ravage had his lightsaber ignited and pointed at her in an instant. He unclasped his cloak and let it drop to the ground; it would only get in the way. "You set this up."

She smiled, the light of his blade illuminating her face in scarlet. "Of course I did. You had that charming fallen Jedi of yours wandering around Alderaan asking all manner of questions. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? I was going to send her back to you in pieces to make a point, but I suppose now I'll have to improvise."

"You hid yourself in the Force. That shouldn't be possible."

"Oh, that little trick? Simple, really." Nox eyed his saber blade, but showed no sign of concern. "After my ancestor, Lord Kallig, was murdered by Tulak Hord's assassins, his family went into hiding. They learned to conceal themselves from the Sith, passing the secret down through the ages."

"A secret you just revealed very easily," Ravage pointed out.

"It's not as if I told you how to do it." She raised an eyebrow. "Now, what am I going to do with you?"

He'd been waiting for that tone of smug certainty. After five years, he was ready for the way it needled at his temper, but Nox, unlike other irritations, had grown no less infuriating with time.

Unfortunately, she knew this.

"I don't know," Ravage said, keeping his tone light. How many times had they had this exchange? "Perhaps we'll see if you can manage to summon any lightning before I cut you down."

 _Kill her,_ urged the rational part of his mind. _Kill her and be done with it._

"Ravage, my dear," Nox sighed. "How long will you insist on pretending that you want me dead?"

"As long as it's true," Ravage snapped, tightening his grip on his lightsaber.

One step forward. That was all he needed to drive his blade through her wretched heart.

She laughed. "How much time and resources have you spent trying to figure out my origins? You won't waste that."

Just one step…

"I could," Ravage whispered. "It might be worth it."

"You could," Nox agreed. "But you won't."

She met his gaze with glacial calm. He tried to stare her down, and she just looked at him, her gray eyes filled with unrelenting certainty.

Ravage deactivated his lightsaber, and Nox's face became a pale hint in the shadows.

"There," she said softly. "Much better."

Ravage silently replaced his lightsaber on his belt. Rage thundered in his head and made his hand quiver. She was in control. Somehow, she was always in control.

"Now then, I think we should talk about all this sleuthing you've had your people doing." Nox shook her head. "Why are you so interested in my past? It's hardly worth all the effort you've put in."

"If that's the case, why go to such lengths to hide it?"

"Oh please, I have nothing to hide."

"Enough of your damn games!" Ravage glared at her, though he knew she wouldn't see the expression in the darkness.

"But I like my games," she protested with mock innocence. "They amuse me ever so much. Almost as much as you do, in fact. So tell me, O fearsome Lord of the Sith, what have your agents found? What do you think you know?"

Ravage heavily considered not answering. But if Nox knew why Elaedrin had been on Alderaan, then she probably also knew what she had found there. Lying now would gain him nothing.

And so he told the truth as he saw it. "Twelve years ago, an Alderaanian woman named Katilya Mavess was hired by the Empire to assassinate Countess Leraine Organa."

"Not my finest work," Nox said blandly, "but I was on a tight schedule."

Of all the responses he had anticipated, that had not been one of them. "You admit it."

Her shadowed form shifted in what might have been a shrug. "You're hardly the first person to figure it out. As I said, not my finest work."

"Then you _are_ Katilya Mavess."

"Katilya Mavess wasn't a real person." Nox sounded amused. "Really, Ravage, I gave you the truth at the beginning of this conversation, and you didn't even notice."

Ravage froze. _What?_

He quickly went over the past few minutes. His arrival in the alley, Nox's unexpected appearance, her explanation of her uncanny ability to hide herself—

 _Kallig's family went into hiding. They learned to conceal themselves from the Sith._

During his investigation, he had not forgotten Kallig. The few records that mentioned the ancient Sith Lord at all said that his family had vanished, Tulak Hord having ordered their destruction. Ravage had assumed that they had fled the Empire altogether. He should have remembered that where Nox was involved, assumptions were generally wrong.

"You're Imperial," Ravage stated. "Not born into slavery. A citizen."

Nox chuckled. "All these years of digging and searching and deducing, and I still had to point it out to you. I'm a little disappointed."

The full implications of this revelation boiled in Ravage's mind. He didn't even care that she had just insulted him. He was far too busy connecting the new pieces of the puzzle that was Nox, and taking in the picture that they formed.

That picture made him angry. It was a quiet, futile anger directed at things he could not change, but he let it bleed into his voice anyway. "Who was responsible for this?"

"Responsible for what?"

"All Force-sensitives are to be trained as Sith. That is Imperial law." Ravage found his hand had gone instinctively to his lightsaber. What was he going to do, attack the past? "To think that someone defied that law—kept someone of your potential from being properly trained for years—"

"Ooh," Nox murmured knowingly. "Angry about the _law_ , are we?"

"If random citizens think they can defy the will of the Sith, it undermines everything that the Empire stands for."

"Indeed. And if I'd trained on Korriban at the more traditional age of…oh, I don't know, twenty, that would have been a year before the Treaty of Coruscant. Around the time a certain new Darth might have been looking for an apprentice, hm?"

Ravage gritted his teeth. "This has _nothing_ to do with me."

"Of course not."

"All I am saying is that having someone of your capabilities might have made a difference for us in the war."

"I'm touched that you think so highly of me, truly. It wouldn't have been me, though. Not really. Not the way I am now."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Sith take people young so they can change them," Nox said matter-of-factly. "They mold them, remake them until they are something entirely different from when they started. That's all well and good for some people, but my mother thought differently. She taught me to hide myself, determined that I would have the freedom to choose my own fate. And so I did."

Ravage frowned. "You were brought to Korriban as a slave. You didn't choose anything."

"Don't be obtuse. Do you think it was coincidence that evidence of Baron Tyvinian's embezzling was suddenly leaked to the right people?"

"That was _you?_ "

"Four years." For once, there was no trace of humor in Nox's voice. "I swore I'd have revenge. It's a shame I wasn't there to see the baron executed, but I did kill his wife. With the Force, in front of the Sith sent to do the job. My ticket to Korriban."

Ravage considered his response for a moment. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"I'm in a chatty mood. It's not too often I get to reminisce."

"I don't believe for an instant that you're just talking for the sake of talking. You have an ulterior motive."

"Your suspicion wounds me."

"And if I wasn't suspicious, you'd wound _me_."

Nox laughed. "Very clever! Prudent, too. You know, for a man someone saw fit to name 'Ravage,' you're awfully cautious."

"It's how I stay alive."

"Mm, yes. Of course. A bit of careful ravaging here and there, but not so much that you leave yourself open."

Ravage peered at her intently, wishing he could see more of her expression in the darkness. "You're in rare form tonight, Nox."

"I feelrare. I blame you for dredging up my past. Reminds me of how much I am _not_ your average decicred-a-dozen Sith Lord. Rare indeed."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Not yet. You do tend to drive me to it, though."

"Nox…" Ravage trailed off as he contemplated the entirety of their bizarre encounter. The more the conversation revolved around Nox, the more whimsical she became. Almost as if she were trying to distract him from something.

The truth, perhaps?

"What did you do?" he asked.

She tilted her head. "I beg your pardon?"

"Imperial citizens don't get sold into slavery for no reason. You must have done something, committed some crime."

"Other than the crime of not handing myself over to the Sith as a child, you mean."

"Precisely."

"Ah. Well." Nox clicked her tongue. "Really, it all came down to being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Slavers got me on Nar Shaddaa; I'm sure you found the documents during your investigation."

"I did. Kyalah Vern, originally of Balmorra, age twenty-seven, sold to Baron Tyvinian, who was evidently too cheap to buy Imperial. It was under that name that you were registered as a student of the Korriban Academy, though by the time you took your place on the Council you'd changed it to Vesania Serence for some reason."

"I changed it because that's my name," Nox said dryly. "Don't bother looking it up in the official records; you won't find me. But I wasn't about to become Sith under a pseudonym."

 _Vesania_. It suited her. And she'd never be known by that name again.

Ravage refocused his attention. "Since we've established that you are, in fact, Imperial, that raises the question of what exactly you were doing outside the Empire that led you to fall into the hands of slavers."

Nox was silent.

"I see I've found the limits of your verbosity," Ravage remarked after more than a minute had passed. "Astonishing."

"Yes, I think I've said enough."

The shadows rippled as she moved, and quite suddenly she was close. Close enough that Ravage didn't need the Force to feel her presence. Close enough to touch. He took a slow, unsteady breath, and caught the scent of her perfume. Korriban lilies, said to grow only where Sith blood had been spilled.

"Oh, Ravage," Nox murmured. "If only you knew."

And then she was gone.

 _Damn her_ , Ravage thought bitterly.

 _No. Damn me, for letting her do this to me._

"If only I knew _what?_ " he demanded of the darkness, then shook his head wearily. Muttering to himself in an alley like a madman. This was what she'd reduced him to. Pathetic.

He picked up his cloak and put it on, then turned and started walking towards the main street. Every time, she got the better of him. When would it end?

It would end, he knew, if he killed her. That possibility might have intimidated her at first, but it had been too long. Now, she taunted him with the constant reminder of his own weakness.

Mustering all of his will, Ravage put her out of his mind. He had a great deal to do. The Empire was about to be at peace, which was a far more daunting prospect than an impending war would have been. There were logistics to deal with, apprentices to organize, assassinations to arrange…

He reached the street. The sky was just starting to lighten, outlining the dark form of the Citadel looming on the horizon. Beside it, nestled in the Sith's dominating shadow, was Intelligence headquarters. Intelligence made him think of Nox, which made him scowl.

Then he realized.

Nox's strength didn't all lie with her Force powers. She knew Imperial politics. She knew how to read people. She lied, seduced, and manipulated like no one else he'd met. She had successfully infiltrated an Alderaanian noble house and assassinated one of its members. And she had fought for control of Sith Intelligence, fought with more passion than he had ever seen from her, and ran it with the competency of someone who understood exactly how the organization worked…

Ravage clearly remembered the day that Nox had ascended to the Dark Council. Mortis had offered her the seat, not realizing what he was getting them all into, and she had looked through him into a distance only she could see and said _finally, the recognition I deserve._

 _Finally._

Because Imperial Intelligence agents didn't get recognition, no matter their skill—and Vesania Serence would have been among the best.

In spite of himself, Ravage began thinking of Nox with a new sense of respect. No wonder the woman was fearless; she would have hidden in plain sight from Darth Jadus himself. No wonder she spoke with such disdain of Imperial Intelligence's dissolution.

On Nar Shaddaa, even a seasoned agent might be caught unawares by hostile forces. She would have been presumed dead, abandoned by the Empire, left to fend for herself. Some might have given up then, but she had fought, and in the end, she had triumphed. It was the Sith way, and she had embraced it.

 _I understand, now_ , Ravage thought, but he felt no sense of victory at his revelation, only apprehension. By knowing where Nox had come from, he now realized how dangerous she truly was. Intelligence operations had destabilized entire governments. What could an ambitious Dark Council member with Intelligence training do to the Empire, for good or ill, and could Ravage survive the process?

Time would tell. He continued walking towards the Citadel.


	41. Chapter 41

**Forty-One**

 _Emperor's Space Station, Imperial Space_

 _17 ATC_

The air in the station was cold. It was so cold that A'tro, whose Pureblood physiology was adapted to Korriban's harsh climate, found herself starting to shiver as she walked. In her five years of service as the Wrath, this was her first visit to the Emperor's secret sanctum.

Two masked Sith led her through the corridors without speaking. From the outside, it looked like a standard Imperial space station, albeit an old one, and she should have been able to make sense of the route, but the map in her head kept falling apart. The halls seemed to bend at odd angles. Even the lights looked strange, shining at full power but somehow unable to keep shadows from pooling in the corners and climbing up the walls, wrapping themselves around the lights and strangling.

A'tro's head started to hurt.

Several minutes passed. Forever passed. And at last, her silent escorts stopped before a set of closed doors. One made a gesture, and the doors slid open, revealing a large circular chamber. Everything was shrouded in gloom, but A'tro could make out a single object situated in the exact center of the space. It looked a great deal like a throne.

Her shivering intensified, not from cold, but from fear. There was a presence in the chamber, a singularity that held eternity in a finite space. An overwhelming sense of wrongness seized her, and in that moment she would have given anything to keep from having to walk forward towards the presence.

Only pride kept her from turning and running. Only duty moved her forward, one step at a time, until she had passed beyond the event horizon and stood before the abyss personified.

The Sith Emperor was a humanoid figure swathed in black robes. The shadow of his hood completely concealed his face. His hands, resting on the arms of his seat, were gloved. For a moment, A'tro wondered whether there was even a man behind the hood, or merely a shadow wrapped in cloth to give it form.

"My Wrath," the Emperor said. His voice was deep and resonant, echoing in her mind as well as her ears. There was a trace of amusement in his tone as he spoke her title. "You've come to me at last."

A'tro knelt, both out of respect and to escape the crushing weight of his being. "I am yours to command, my master."

"You have served me very well, these past years. I was right to choose you for this honor."

"I live only to serve the Empire," A'tro whispered, her mouth suddenly gone dry. Her headache was intensifying by the second; she fought to keep the pain from clouding her awareness.

"Indeed." The Emperor leaned forward. "I have watched you very closely, my Wrath. I see all that you do."

The strength of his full attention sent an icy lance through A'tro's brain. "My lord?" she asked faintly.

"You are mine, Wrath," the Emperor remarked with the casual assurance that one might use to note that stars emitted light and gravity pulled things in. "Mind, body and soul, you are entirely my creature. Did you really imagine that I would not _know_?"

His presence compressed around A'tro's mind. "You plot against me. You would betray me, as your predecessor did—and you will fail."

A'tro's vision tunneled, then went dark. She fell into the void.

And then she was in Kaas City, standing at the edge of the Spires of Victory plaza. The sculpture had tumbled to the ground, the antigravity fields holding it in place offline. The city's great skyscrapers were on fire. Some had collapsed, choking the street with rubble. She would have expected to hear screams, shouts, the crackling of the flames, the sirens of emergency vehicles, but there was nothing. Kaas City burned in silence.

The scene shifted, dreamlike, and she stood in a city she'd never seen, though she recognized it from holos. Coruscant, shining capital of the Republic. It too was engulfed in silent fire. Another shift, and she was on Nar Shaddaa. Then Corellia. Then Alderaan. The scenes shifted faster and faster, showing her worlds she didn't even recognize, all in ruins. On every planet, the sky was dark and devoid of stars.

She was back in Kaas City, but the scene had changed. The plaza was full of bodies, lying still amidst the burning city, and A'tro recognized every last one of them.

Pierce still held his gun, as if he'd died fighting, though there was not a mark on him. Jaesa was crumpled near him, one hand half-obscuring her face. Darth Marr had half-fallen against a pile of rubble that kept him on his feet, defiant even in death. Darth Nox was close by, her face frozen in an expression of surprise.

Quinn and Saryn lay at A'tro's feet. Her shuddering, horrified gasp broke the eerie silence.

The Emperor's voice spoke in her mind. _This is your future._

"No," A'tro choked, trying to tear her eyes away from the motionless forms of her husband and daughter. _It's a lie—they're not dead—they can't be—_

 _This is your future_ , the Emperor repeated. _And you, my Wrath, will help me make it happen._

" _No!"_ A'tro screamed.

The illusion shattered, and once again she was kneeling before the Emperor.

"I defy you," A'tro said recklessly. Her heart hammered in her ears, all but drowning out her voice. She rose to her feet with legs that shook. She would not kneel to death; she would not cower before the dark and beg it not to take her.

She would be Sith, as she had always been.

"I will not serve you, Vitiate," A'tro said, staring boldly into the shrouded face before her. To speak the Emperor's name was heresy, but she was past caring. "I know what you are. I will not help you bring about the end of everything. You'll have to kill me."

The Emperor said nothing.

Adrenaline seared along A'tro's nerves, buzzed inside her brain, made her intimately aware of every heartbeat, every breath. She had suspected from the moment she had received the summons that she was going to her execution. She tried to keep calm, but she couldn't slow her breathing down.

"Turn around," the Emperor said.

 _What?_ A'tro was reluctant to comply, suspecting that she was being toyed with, but in the end what else could she do?

She slowly turned. Two Imperial Guards stood behind her.

"Look upon these men," the Emperor said. "Newly sworn to my service, they have passed every trial laid before them. They have the potential to become great exemplars for future generations of their order. They have committed no crimes, no wrongdoing. All they have done is serve their Empire. And now, you will kill them."

"No," A'tro said, gritting her teeth. "I will not."

"I did not ask," the Emperor murmured, and then the darkness was inside her head.

She became utterly numb.

She couldn't breathe, but she could still feel her breath cycling in and out. She couldn't move, but her hands still went to her lightsabers, unhooked them from her belt, and activated the blades. Her eyes burned, and she wished she could go blind so she didn't have to see. So she didn't have to watch.

The back of her mind echoed with the Emperor's laughter.

She could feel the guardsmen's fear in the Force. _Run_ , she thought desperately. _Run away. Fight back._

They did neither. They simply stood there while she cut them down.

As their life-lights faded from the Force, A'tro abruptly regained control of her body. She stumbled forward, nearly falling, revulsion choking her as she looked at the red-armored bodies on the floor. In her thirty-four years of life, she had killed a great many people, but not like this. This was _wrong_.

"Why?" she demanded, turning to face the Emperor. "Why would you make me kill them? What was the _point?_ "

"Because I could," the Emperor replied evenly. "Because you needed to understand."

"Just kill me, damn you!"

"Kill you? My Wrath, you are far too useful for that. No, you will continue to serve me as you always have. And if you refuse…there is nowhere in the galaxy where I cannot reach you."

He could do this anywhere? Seize control of her body, make her a puppet… She fought back a surge of nausea.

The Emperor waved a hand. "You may go, now. Continue your little rebellion if you like. It has been amusing to watch you struggle against the inevitable. My servants will call when I have need of you again."

A'tro's pride wavered, then cracked, and she ran. She didn't stop running until she had reached her ship and started it up with shaking hands. As the stars gave way to hyperspace, taking her back to Dromund Kaas, she collapsed to the floor in front of the navicomputer and curled up into a fetal ball, trembling from head to toe.

Such power. Such terrible, unfathomable power.

She did not know how long she lay on the floor like a dead thing, staring blindly into the distance. But slowly, very slowly, feeling returned to her quivering body. She pulled herself up off the floor and into the pilot's chair. It was Quinn's chair; echoes of his presence were strong within it, etched deeply after years of use. A'tro closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting the echoes wrap around her. The last traces of the Emperor's presence receded from her mind, and she could think again.

Maybe the Emperor was right. Maybe his annihilation of all life in the galaxy was inevitable, and any attempt to stop him would prove futile. But she had stood before him with her head held high, prepared to die with honor. Even knowing that he could force her to obey whether she wanted to or not, what kind of Sith would she be if she did not stand and fight until the bitter end?

A'tro seized that thought and held onto it. A tiny flame of resolve came to life within her. It was her duty to fight for the future of the Empire, even if it was a losing battle, no matter what sacrifices she would have to make.

It was just before dawn in Kaas City when she arrived. The streets were deserted save for a few security personnel who recognized her as a Sith and left her alone. When she reached the Citadel, she was startled to encounter Darth Ravage of all people entering the building. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to see him; they exchanged polite nods and went their separate ways.

A turbolift ride and more walking later, and A'tro finally reached her apartment. As she approached, she noticed that the two Imperial Guards who normally flanked her door were gone. Nervousness formed a spiky ball in her stomach. Was this her punishment for her defiance? The removal of a very public sign of the Emperor's favor would do immense damage to her reputation.

Or what if they hadn't been reassigned? What if they'd been killed, the bodies hidden somewhere? What if her family was—

A'tro fought back panic and reached out with the Force. There were two beings inside her apartment. Quinn's presence was intimately familiar to her, and Saryn's glimmered bright with the seeds of what would one day mature into great power. A'tro took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. They were fine. Everything was fine.

She entered the access code and let herself in, walking quickly through the antechamber and into the main living area. Despite the earliness of the hour, Quinn was awake and in uniform, sitting on the sofa with a cup of caf in one hand and a datapad in the other.

A'tro had never, in the entirety of the seven years they'd known each other, been more relieved to see him.

He looked up as she entered the room, setting caf and datapad down on the arm of the sofa. "You're back."

A'tro tried to speak, but the memory of her vision of him lying dead in the burning city welled up and formed a lump in her throat that blocked the words.

Quinn stood, his movements stiff—he had yet to fully recover from his injuries on Alderaan—and crossed the short distance between them. "Are you all right?" he asked, his brows knitting in obvious concern.

"Not really," she said quietly, tilting her head back to look him in the eyes.

"You didn't tell me where you were going. Has something happened?"

"Yes. And no. And—" A'tro shook her head. She stepped forward and put her arms around him, careful not to squeeze too tightly where he'd been shot, and rested her head against his chest. "Everything has changed," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "It's all become so uncertain and I—I don't know what to do."

Quinn reciprocated her embrace. "You know I'm here to help however I can."

"Is Saryn sleeping?" she asked. A clumsy avoidance, and one she knew he'd see through, but she couldn't bring herself to describe what she'd experienced. Not yet.

"Yes, though I suspect she'll sense your arrival soon enough. She missed you."

"And I missed her." A'tro sighed. "I'll have to call Nox later, learn what transpired at the Council meeting. Once the ceasefire is in effect, I can spend more time here with her."

"That will be good for her, I think. She needs your influence."

 _And I will be a better mother to her than mine was to me_ , A'tro vowed silently. Safiel Dhakar had been a cruel, selfish woman, and both her daughters had suffered for it. From the moment Saryn had been born, A'tro had resolved to do better.

"Now," Quinn said, interrupting her reverie, "will you tell me what's wrong? If it's not classified, of course."

A'tro opened her eyes and looked up at him. "I met the Emperor."

Quinn's hold on her tightened.

"He's…" She bit her lip. "Malavai, he's so powerful. I was nothing next to him. Less than nothing. An insect. A pawn for him to move as he pleases—literally. He could control my very actions with nothing but a thought." Her face burned at the admission.

"Dearest," Quinn said. His face was grim, but his voice was gentle. "You should not feel ashamed."

He knew her too well.

"Yes, I should," A'tro snapped. "I was weak. I should have fought harder. I doubt his sorcery would have worked on Nox, or Marr, or—or—I don't know, anyone with true strength. I should have made him kill me."

"I, for one, am glad that you did not," Quinn said quietly. "As is our daughter, I suspect."

"Of course," A'tro muttered, even more shame flooding her. "Of course, I didn't really mean—"

"I know."

"I should have been better prepared. I'd heard the rumors, I'd seen the Voice, I knew what he was capable of. But I wasn't." A'tro shook her head. "I thought I was special. Even knowing what he was, what he planned to do, I thought I was important to him. His blade. His Wrath. But I'm not. I'm just another minion. Not even important enough to kill." She choked on a laugh. "Look at me. I met a being who wants to consume the entire galaxy, and I'm upset because he hurt my _pride_. Pathetic."

"I don't mean to contradict you," Quinn said, concerned husband giving way to clinical analyst. "But it seems to me that the Emperor is in fact fully aware of just how important you are. He wants you to respond this way, to feel shame and despair, because he knows how much of a threat you pose to his power, and he surely wants that threat eliminated."

"He said I was useful," A'tro said bitterly. "But, Malavai, he—the Emperor made me kill. Two Imperial Guards, young men, probably just finished their training. Wholly undeserving of death. But he made me kill them. He could make me kill anyone."

 _He could make me kill you,_ she tried to say, but the words stuck in her throat.

"I understand," Quinn said gravely.

"I probably shouldn't even be here. I'm not _safe_."

"I don't care." He squeezed her gently. "I will endure any danger to stand at your side, my love. We will face this darkness together."

"When I hear you say that," A'tro said wistfully, "I almost believe that we can win."

"It pains me to see you so devoid of hope."

A'tro looked into his eyes and saw herself reflected there. Small. Grim. Unyielding.

"I don't need hope to be able to fight," she said. "If I did, I would never have made it this far."

Quinn moved his hands to rest on either side of her face, one thumb tracing the old lightsaber scar on her right cheek. "You know that I will do anything you ask. Anything you need."

The cynical part of her briefly wondered if he was so supportive because he loved her, or because it was his duty as an officer.

 _Stop it,_ she told herself. _This is how Vitiate_ wants _you to feel: paranoid and alone._

"Right now," she said, "I think that all any of us can do is wait." She took a deep breath, doing her best to steady her nerves. "The enemy is complacent, in no hurry to act. We can use that to our advantage."

Quinn smiled. "That sounds more like you."

"Your support gives me strength. I will do my best to carry on." A'tro smiled back at him. "I don't suppose you have more caf somewhere? I'm exhausted."

Outside, the sky grew brighter.

* * *

Although her conversation with Quinn had rejuvenated A'tro's determination, she had not forgotten the question of where her Imperial Guards had gone. The issue lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her with tiny, worried teeth, until later that same day there was a ping from the security system of someone requesting admittance to the apartment.

Leaving Quinn and Saryn safely in one of the rooms farthest from the entrance, A'tro went to the door and opened it. Two Imperial Guards stood there, one slightly taller than the other.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her.

"I do believe," A'tro said slowly, assessing their Force signatures, "that we've met before."

"We are honored that you remember us, my lord Wrath," Arden Zariel said. She bowed elegantly. Her partner, who could only be Vorin Janeth, echoed the motion.

"The Emperor has seen fit to assign us to your service once more," Janeth explained.

A'tro raised a brow-ridge. "Zariel, you requested to leave my service before due to a conflict of interest stemming from your relationship to my officer, Malavai Quinn. Have you changed your mind?"

"Our commander made it clear that our orders come directly from the supreme master himself," Janeth said delicately. "We would never object."

"Of course not," A'tro muttered darkly. "Very well. Welcome back, both of you."

"It is our honor to serve you again," Janeth said. "We'll begin our duties immediately."

"Before you do so, you should be aware that my circumstances have changed." A'tro folded her arms across her chest. There was no point in keeping secrets from them; the Emperor surely knew everything about her. "I have a daughter, Saryn. You will protect her with your lives."

Zariel stiffened noticeably. "Yes, my lord."

A'tro watched her carefully. "Is something wrong?"

"No, my lord," Zariel said. "I was only startled. Your daughter shares a name with my great-grandmother, the last Sith of my line."

"Yes, Malavai told me as much." A'tro had difficulty imagining the cold and reserved guardswoman as anyone's mother, but Quinn certainly looked like her.

"He did?" Zariel said faintly.

"He also told me," A'tro continued, ignoring her, "that the only reason you ever had a child was in an attempt to continue your family's Sith legacy. Now, your son is not Sith, but his daughter— _our_ daughter—is. You haven't failed. The Zariel line continues."

Zariel stood as still and silent as a statue. A'tro peered at her blank helmet, trying to imagine the expression of the woman within.

"Forgive her, my lord," Janeth murmured. "You've just turned her entire universe on its head."

A'tro frowned. "I thought this might motivate her."

"I am beyond motivated, my lord," Zariel said thickly. "This…this is a great honor you have done my ancestors. My life is yours."

"I hope it won't come to that," A'tro said. "Would you like to meet your granddaughter?"

"I…" Zariel hesitated, then shook her head. "No, my lord. It is enough for me to know that she exists. Better that I remain anonymous. But I thank you."

"If that is what you wish, I won't force the issue." A'tro nodded to both of them. "I'll leave you to your duties."

Even though they were servants of the Emperor, A'tro felt better knowing that she could leave Saryn under Janeth and Zariel's protection. The two veterans were far from young, but they clearly had some fighting spirit left in them. She would use that while she could. Anything to keep her daughter safe.

She would start teaching Saryn to fight, A'tro decided. Her own father had put a training saber in her hands as soon as she could walk. It was time Saryn learned to defend herself. The Empire was soon to be at peace, but the galaxy seemed more dangerous than it had ever been.


End file.
